


eislean cuir stad air

by Aquila_Star



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-25
Updated: 2011-06-25
Packaged: 2017-10-20 17:18:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 66,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/215150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aquila_Star/pseuds/Aquila_Star
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is universally agreed that fate is inevitable, though sometimes it can hang on a precipice. It only takes a breath to tip the balance, but on which side will it fall?</p>
            </blockquote>





	eislean cuir stad air

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for bottom_draco's Fairytale fest, for the prompt 'The Tragedy of Deidre.' The title translates loosely to 'Sorrow suspended.'
> 
> Beta-ed by the wonderful annafugazzi and schemingreader, much thanks ladies. Also beta-ed by, driven and brainstormed by the incomparable noo, who I adore. :P

_The Lion cannot defeat the Viper without the power of the White Dragon. Only the White Dragon can provide the power he needs. When the Dragon in his heart, the Lion will defeat the Viper. The White Dragon is key, the Lion must liberate the White Dragon before victory can be found._

 **  
_June 1997_   
**

_He's running, always running, legs pumping furiously, chest heaving in an attempt to draw enough breath to continue. He doesn't know why he's running or from whom but the terror is catching up, gripping him tightly, making every breath harder to win. He trips, stumbles, the certainty of capture and death threatening to drown him. Before it can overtake him, his hand is gripped so tight it hurts, and he's pulled to his feet, his shoulder wrenching from the ferocity of the pull. He looks down, seeing a strong masculine hand wrapped around his own, knuckles whitened by their grip. He follows the arm up to a set of broad shoulders and a head of dark, impossibly messy hair but he's only able to catch glimpses of the pale face belonging to his rescuer. He is tiring now, the terror is catching up again. He knows he is lagging, dragging the other down as panic sets in. “Hold on, Draco,” a voice says, as the boy whose hand he's holding onto for dear life looks back at him._

 _His face is pale but handsome. A pair of round spectacles perch precariously on his nose, and a red, vivid scar stands out on his forehead. But his eyes...it's his eyes that see right into Draco, his eyes containing such certainty and determination that it overflows, filling Draco with warmth and hope, things he has felt only in snatches during his lonely, uncertain life._

 _He surges forward, legs pushing harder, his breath coming easier now as emerald eyes fill him up and a strong hand grips him tighter. He smiles at the boy running beside him, receiving a bright smile in return as..._

...he woke up, gasping as if he had been running in reality instead of in a dream. He panted desperately, gasping for air, the sound impossibly loud in his empty bedroom. He knows that face, those eyes... he'd dreamt of them almost every night of his life, their brilliance has haunted him every night in his sleep.

The dreams have been changing, becoming more like visions, rather than the hazy snapshots of his childhood. It's as if they are preparing him for something, as if something was coming. 'As if he's coming,' Draco thought with a shiver. He threw off the covers and paced across the room to the floor length windows, looking out onto a pristine view of white topped mountains, clear lakes and vibrant leafed trees, all obscured by the early morning fog. Of course it was all fake, the product of a spell, supposedly to make him more comfortable. It didn't work to make him more comfortable, but still soothed him to gaze at such a lovely scene. He'd been trapped here for five years now, what felt like a lifetime, with only a bare idea of why. He was mostly alone, though his parents were allowed to visit every few days, and Riddle came often to wax poetic about his great plans for the wizarding world, his intended destruction of the Mudbloods and how the Muggles might make barely adequate slaves, but they would do.

He was jerked out of his thoughts by a bang on his door. It was followed by a few more, the sound of a scuffle. There was the unmistakable thump of a body hitting the ground, and then the door opened and closed, seemingly by itself. Draco froze, his spine tingling with awareness. There was someone in the room with him, he could sense it.

“Who's there?” he asked, crossing his arms across his bare chest protectively. There was no response, but Draco was more certain than ever. He knew things, before they happened, and he'd never been more certain of anything in his life.

“I know you're there,” he said. “You might as well show yourself.”

Silence filled the room again, but Draco was determined to wait. As the moments passed the air in the room became thick as the tension built. Draco had the wild thought that he should be afraid, but he wasn't. Finally, just when he was about to break, the air in front of the door shimmered before sliding away, revealing a messy head on broad shoulders. Draco gasped when the intruder looked up, adjusting round spectacles with still invisible hands and staring at Draco with the greenest eyes he'd ever seen. Green eyes he had been dreaming of only minutes before.

The rest of the Cloak fell, revealing too baggy clothes and scuffed trainers that Draco would have scoffed at had he met this boy on the street. But the eyes, the hair, the face; he'd been seeing them in his dreams, all his life.

“Hi,” the boy said awkwardly, staring at Draco as if he had two heads.

“Hi,” Draco returned, feeling suddenly naked in his pyjama pants, arms still crossed over his bare chest.

They stared at each other for a moment, before Draco spoke again. “What are you doing here?”

“I...uh,” He scratched the back of his neck, nervously, eyes dancing across Draco's face and down his torso. Draco shivered.

“Well? I'm not used to strange people breaking into my bedroom in the middle of the night.” Draco stalked across the room, opening a drawer and pulling a t-shirt over his head.

“I was looking for...well, never mind. I just didn't know there was anyone in here, much less...well, you.”

“What does that mean, exactly? Who else would you expect to find here?” Draco was annoyed and more than a little disappointed. The boy may have haunted his dreams, but he was also a bit of a twit.

“I, uh...I should introduce myself, I guess,” he bit his lip, his fingers fidgeting with the shimmery material he still held.

“Yes, you should.” Draco said simply.

“I'm Harry Potter,” he said.

Draco took a step back, almost staggering. Harry Potter? No wonder Riddle had been so desperate to find him. Draco thought of the picture tucked inside his journal, and of the dreams that had followed him every time he slept. He'd been dreaming of none other than Harry Potter, all these years. Suddenly he understood Riddle's insistence on keeping him here, away from the world. If he and Potter were to...Draco cut off that line of thought, shivering with the implications.

He shook off his internal reaction and responded with a sneer. “Good for you. Now are you going to tell me why you're here?”

“You uh...don't you know who I am?” Potter looked confused, his brow furrowed in a not terribly attractive manner.

“Of course I know who you are, but you still haven't told me why you're in my bedroom.” Draco crossed his arms again, and tapped his foot. “Well?”

“Right, I...well, I was looking for something,” Potter was shifting from foot to foot, his eyes still roaming Draco's body. Draco was now utterly disappointed. This is what he'd been waiting for all these years?

“You said that already. Are you dense, or just an idiot?”

Potter's eyes snapped up, meeting Draco's eyes once more. Draco shivered at their intensity, but held the gaze.

“No, but apparently you're a bit of a prat,” he snapped back at Draco.

“I'm not the one breaking into a stranger's bedroom in the middle of the night, so I'm not the prat here, you idiot.” Draco took a few steps forward, his fists clenched by his sides now.

Potter sighed, dragging his hand through already messy hair, making it stand up even worse. “I'm sorry, I...I'm not so good with words and you're...well, distracting.”

“Yes, I know I'm gorgeous, but there's no need to drool,” Draco snapped at him, loving the blush that crept up Potter's neck. Draco smirked, changing tactics and sauntering the few remaining feet until he stood right in front of the other boy, noting that the fidgeting had increased and the blush had deepened.

“Now tell me why you're here, before I yell for help,” he said, poking Potter hard in the chest.

“Ow, there's no need to poke me, geez.” Potter rubbed his hand across his chest, but he still didn't give.

“Why don't you tell me your name?” he asked, keeping between Draco and the door. Draco wasn't about to call for anyone, despite his annoyance that Potter seemed unable to answer a simple question. He knew very well that making the house aware of Potter's presence would be a huge mistake. He knew, with every fibre of his being, that he could trust this idiotic nitwit with his life. And wasn't that just ironic cherry on top of his stupid life.

“Are you going to keep ignoring my questions? Should I just call for help right now?” Draco opened his mouth as if to scream but before he could blink Potter had one hand clasped over his mouth and the other gripping the back of his neck. Draco's eyes widened and his pulse raced. Idiot or not, Potter was very attractive, his eyes all the more fierce for being so close.

“Don't, please, or you'll get me killed. I know you're confused and probably a bit freaked out, but I'm not here to hurt you.” Potter's voice was low and tinged with desperation, Draco could almost breathe in the smell of his fear.

Potter's body shifted against his, and Draco closed his eyes against the sensation. It felt good, far too good considering the situation. “I'll explain why I'm here if you promise not to scream, alright?”

Draco nodded, his eyes meeting Potter's, only a few inches away. They held the gaze for a long moment before Potter uncovered Draco's mouth and stepped back. His other hand released it's grip on Draco's neck, sliding across his shoulder before dropping away. Draco breathed a sigh of relief, unsure if it was because Potter had let go at last, or because he didn't want the other boy to know how much his closeness had affected Draco.

“Plebe,” Draco snapped, turning away from Potter and striding across the room to the cupboard with a perpetual cooling charm on it. He pulled a jug of pumpkin juice out, glaring at Potter as he poured himself a glass. It was mostly to cover up his nervousness, but he realized that he would have to offer some to his guest, however unwanted the guest may be. He may have spent the past five years trapped alone in a room, but he still had manners. He was a Malfoy, after all.

Potter watched him placidly, leaning back against the door. Draco sighed, but reached for another glass nonetheless.

“Would you like some pumpkin juice?” he asked politely.

“I'd love some,” Potter replied, so Draco gestured to the chair opposite him. Potter sat down and accepted the glass. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

Draco sat in the other chair and looked at Potter closely. He reminded Draco of someone, besides the fact that Draco knew him from his dream. “I'm Draco,” he said at last.

“Draco? Really?” Potter looked surprised. “I thought you looked familiar”

“I do?” Draco was surprised now. “I mean, you do too.”

“We met when I was eleven, at Madam Malkin's. And I saw you the year after in Flourish and Blott's.”

“That was you?” Now Draco was amazed. Not only had he been dreaming of Harry Potter all these years, but they'd met. He remembered Harry now.

“Yeah, that was me.” Potter smiled and Draco smiled back, until he remembered what they were doing.

“As fascinating as this is, I believe we have things to discuss.” Draco said haughtily.

“Right then, I guess I should...” Potter lifted his hand in an expansive sweep between them.

“Yes, you should.”

“Okay then...I, uh, was looking for a weapon,” Potter was staring at the table, but looked up when Draco snorted.

“A weapon? That ridiculous. Beside the fact that this is my bedroom, not a weapon storage facility, they won't let me have anything sharper than a table knife. I don't even have my wand, anymore.” Draco sneered at Potter. He really was a twit.

Potter looked utterly shocked. “You...are you a prisoner here?” His voice was rather squeaky. Draco found he preferred it low and closer.

“Of course I am. What kind of a hero are you anyway? Do you really think anyone in their right mind would stay here voluntarily?”

“How do I know you're in you're right mind?” Potter said with a smirk. Draco wanted to slap it off his face.

“So now you chose to be articulate, great.” Draco leaned back in his chair and looked away.

“Well, there's plenty of otherwise sane people out there who follow voluntarily, how am I to know you're not one of them?” Draco frowned. Potter had a point there.

“I'm not. I don't want to be here, but I don't have a choice. No one asked me, anyway, and my fa...never mind, it's not pertinent.” Draco bit his lip. He didn't want to bring his father into this, for many reasons.

“Pertinent? Are you...you know what, forget it. The fact is, I came here because I discovered that Riddle was keeping a weapon here and we determined that this is the room he was keeping it in. You're sure you don't have any idea what I'm talking about?” Potter was leaning forward on the table now, his eyes filled with the same determination that Draco remembered from his dream. He shivered. “It would really help me out.”

“Potter, I've been here for almost five years now. They've barely let me out of this room, you can be sure that I've searched every inch of it, top to bottom. There's nothing like that here.”

“Five years? That's...but why?” Potter's face was a now a study of disbelief. Draco couldn't help but sneer a bit, the boy seemed unable to keep his every emotion from his face.

“I don't know, exactly. I mean, Riddle plans to...use me for some kind of spell, or something, but I don't know why he wants me. I'm nothing special, really. But no one will tell me.” Draco kept his face as blank as possible, talking about his situation was terrifying.

“Well, that's it then,” Potter said, pushing the chair back and rising to his feet. “We have to get you out of here.”

“We...what? You're going to rescue me?” Draco stood as well, shaking his head in disbelief. His recent dream flashed through his mind, he remembered running, always running, holding Harry Potter's hand and feeling safe in it's grip. Could it be now? Was this really happening?

His mind was reeling, but Potter kept talking.

“Of course I'm going to rescue you!” he exclaimed. “If you're here against your will, I can't leave you, now can I? Besides, I kind of like you, snarky, pretentious git that you are.” Potter grinned at him and Draco's stomach flipped.

“It's not pretention when you're amazing as I am,” he replied back huffily. “Then it's just the truth.”

Potter rolled his eyes. “Fine, whatever. Now are you coming with me, or aren't you?” He held out his hand, meeting Draco's frightened eyes with that same determined gaze.

Draco had a moment of panic at the thought of leaving, of never seeing his parents again, at being free in the world for the first time since he was twelve years old. He wasn't even sure what he would do with himself, but his heart raced at the possibility of being by Potter's side, of arguing with him again, in better circumstances.

The hesitation lasted about 3 seconds, before he really realized what he was doing, he reached out and took Potter's hand. It was dry and warm and the touch made Draco shiver. He'd been dreaming of this boy for a reason. He did know that he could trust Potter, no matter what was to come. Even if he was a twit.

“Good, let's go,” Potter said, tugging him toward the door. “I've already been here too long. They'll be freaking out by now.”

“Wait,” Draco pulled his hand away, turning back toward his armoire. “I need to get dressed.” He began opening drawers and pulling out clothes. He was reaching for a set of robes when Potter stopped him.

“Not the robes, they'll just get in the way.”

Draco turned to give him a sneer. “I'm not going out unless I'm properly dressed. I wouldn't be caught dead looking like you.” His eyes flicked up and down Potter's shabbily dressed form.

Potter rolled his eyes. “No one cares what you look like. But the robes are bulky and they swish when you walk. We need to be quick and quiet. Just put on some slacks and a sweater, it's cold out this late.” Potter bent down to pick up the Invisibility Cloak he'd abandoned by the door.

“Fine,” Draco grabbed his warmest clothes, casting a mournful glance at all the fine items that he would be leaving behind, but he didn't hesitate. Freedom was better than a gilded cage any day. Besides, he'd rather die than be bonded to...he shook his head. 'Don't think about it, Draco, just get going.' He hurried to the bathroom, uncomfortable with the idea that Potter might watch him get changed.

He dressed as fast as he could, putting a few of his more personal items in the pockets of his linen jacket before leaving the bathroom. He stopped briefly to take a well worn journal out of his bedside table, before joining Potter at the door.

“How are we going to do this, exactly?” Draco asked as Potter swung the Cloak over his shoulders.

“This Cloak makes us invisible, so as long as we're quiet, we should be able to slip out unnoticed. It's how I got in, after all.” Potter adjusted the Cloak so that it draped over his head as well and Draco was struck by the oddness of the situation. Potter was only visible where the Cloak gaped open.

“This is bizarre,” Draco muttered, but he allowed Potter to pull him close so that they both fit under the Cloak before fastening it up the front.

“Welcome to my world,” Potter chuckled into Draco's ear, wrapping his arms around Draco securely as they moved toward the door. The hot breath on Draco's neck and Potter's proximity were distracting, but Draco forced himself to focus as Potter opened the door slowly. It would take all their wits to get out alive. Draco took a deep breath, forcing his feet to move when Potter said go.

The first few steps were tentative, but the feeling relief was overwhelming. He was leaving. After five long years, he was leaving. The dismal fate he had resigned himself to was fading as a bright uncertain future rose up to take it's place.

He was free.

*

 **  
_July 1991_   
**

Harry pushed open the door to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, giving one backward glance at Hagrid, before sighing and entering the shop. He was nervous about being left there, for however short a time, but he was excited about going to Hogwarts and he'd need robes.

On the dais in front of him was a small blond boy who looked to be about the same age as Harry himself. He was getting fitted for robes as well, but they were a dark red, instead of the black robes that Harry's list required.

He stood up beside the blond boy as he was directed, sending a small smile his way. The boy lifted an eyebrow at him, rather imperiously, but it only made Harry grin. It was as if he was playing dress up with his father's clothes, the look did not suit his small pointy face.

“Is something funny?” the boy asked, turning away from Harry to watch the seamstress as she hemmed his robe.

“No, I...” Harry stammered. He was saved from making up a response when Madam Malkin came back in with a robe for Harry to try on.

The other boy looked at him again. “Going to Hogwarts, are you?”

Harry nodded. The boy continued, giving Harry a once over. “I'm going to Durmstrang. Father says that I will receive a proper education there, not like at Hogwarts.”

Harry bristled. “My parents went to Hogwarts, so it can't be that bad,” he shot back.

“Well, mine did too, and they say it is,” the boy said. He opened his mouth to speak again, but closed it, studying Harry closely now.

“Are you...do I know you?” he asked, and Harry shook his head. The boy sniffed. “Well, you look familiar, anyway.”

“Oh,” Harry said, at a loss of how to respond to that.

“I'm Draco,” the other boy, Draco, said, giving Harry another once over. “What's your name?”

“I'm...uh, I'm Harry,” He replied, holding his arms out so the seamstress could take his measurement, feeling slightly ridiculous.

“It nice to meet you, Harry, though we'll probably never meet again. I'm sure to make loads of new friends at Durmstrang, Father says it's where all the proper pureblood families send their children.”

“Oh,” Harry said again, feeling like a twit. But Draco seemed not to have noticed, he was still talking.

“Do you play Quidditch?” He asked, continuing without waiting for Harry to answer. “I am going to try out for the team right away. Durmstrang lets the first years bring their own brooms--not like Hogwarts. I'd love to play on a real team, flying with practise balls just isn't as much fun.”

“Are you good at it?” Harry asked. He didn't know what Quidditch was, but Draco seemed to know what he was talking about.

“Of course I am. I'm a Malfoy, and Father says that Malfoys succeed at whatever they do.”

“Your father says a lot,” Harry replied, wishing he had known his father long enough to have learned something from him that he could respond with.

“Well, he knows a lot, so of course he tells me. I'm his heir, you know. It's a sacred duty and not to be taken lightly.” Draco lifted his chin, and Harry was reminded unpleasantly of Aunt Petunia when she looked down on those she thought lesser than herself.

“I suppose,” Harry replied. He was saved from any more unpleasant conversation by Madam Malkin, who had finished with Draco's robe and was instructing one of the seamstresses with measurements and colours.

“All finished for today, Mr. Malfoy,” she said, puling the red robe off his shoulders. “You may tell your mother that the order will be ready within a week and will be owled to you promptly.”

“Thank you, madam.” Draco said politely, before turning to Harry. “Well, have fun at Hogwarts, Harry. Perhaps we'll see each other again.” He smiled politely at Harry before turning and strutting out of the shop. Harry got the impression that Draco hoped they wouldn't meet again but he honestly didn't care. Draco was snobbish and annoying, and Harry was suddenly glad that they would not be going to school together.

*

 **  
_June 1997_   
**

They moved as swiftly and quietly as possible through the darkened hallways of Riddle house. The house was silent at this late hour, moreso because of the ongoing revelry Draco had been pleased to leave, but Draco's heart was still pounding with desperate fear of being caught. They were very lucky, only needing to pause once as they slipped down the main staircase toward the foyer. Two men in black robes alighted the stairs, side by side, leaving Draco and Potter no choice but to flatten themselves against the wall, Draco's back pressed tight against Potter's chest. Suddenly he found his heart beating for an entirely different reason.

Potter's arms were wrapped around his shoulders, keeping the Cloak securely closed, and Draco felt as if he was wrapped in safety. Potter smelled good too, despite his scruffy appearance, he smelled clean, like soap and pumpkin juice, and youthful male. Draco breathed in deeply, wishing that there was time to savour it, for they were moving again before he realized.

The made their way down the last bank of stairs and crossed the foyer, past the front door and down a side corridor. Draco was baffled, freedom was only a few steps away.

“Potter, you idiot,” Draco hissed. “Where are we going? The door is ove...” He was interrupted rather abruptly when Potter clamped a sweaty hand over his mouth.

“Shh,” Potter said, his breath hot against Draco ear. “We're not going out the front door, do you have a death wish?” Draco shook his head as best he could. Potter's hand dropped to his shoulder again, guiding Draco firmly down the corridor to a room on the east side of the house. They slipped through the door quietly, moving immediately across the room toward a set of delicate french doors.

“See?” Potter whispered. “This is how I got in, and this is how we're getting out. They'll be waiting for us in the woods, just there.” Draco followed Potter's gesture and spied a dark lawn and the darker grove beyond. “We'd heard that the house would be almost empty tonight, and this was the best way in.”

Potter opened the door and guided Draco through it, closing it securely behind himself before nudging Draco forward.

“It's that easy?” Draco said, hardly daring to believe that they were outside, with one less obstacle between them and freedom.

“Even with the house near empty, Riddle is so secure in his own superiority that his wards are rather flimsy. It was tricky to open them enough to let me through without taking them down, but Hermione is a wiz with that kind of thing. I don't know how she does it.”

“Who's Hermione?” Draco asked. She must be one of the people waiting from them. Draco was curious and excited to meet them. It had been so long since he'd seen anyone other than his parents, Riddle and the dark robed guards who stood outside his door at all hours.

“My friend. She and Ron will be worried, but it's not far now.”

They moved swiftly across the lawn and were into the woods before Draco knew what was happening. The weaved through trees and brush for a few minutes until they reached a small clearing, where Potter stopped. They stood in the silence for a moment before he gave a low whistle, but the answering whistle came quickly. The two trees directly in front of them stepped forward, shadows morphing until Draco saw they were not trees, but two people in dark robes, with hoods pulled up.

“Harry, where are you?” one of them whispered, receiving an elbow in the ribs from the other.

Draco shivered as Potter's answering chuckle vibrated against his hair. Being this close was unnerving, and his stomach was rolling with nervousness. Potter pulled the Cloak off and Draco shivered in the cold air. The loss of Potter's body heat was chilling in more ways than one.

“Hey guys. Alright then?” Potter grinned at his friends, who pulled their hoods down and smiled back.

“Alright, Harry,” said the redheaded boy, while giving Draco a sceptical look. “Who's this, then?”

“This is Draco,” Potter replied, dragging a hand through his already messy hair. “He's coming with us.”

“That's interesting Harry, but what about the...you know,” The girl said, twitching her head to the side. Draco sneered. She was clearly trying to communicate something without actually saying it, but with all that bushy hair, she just looked like she'd been hit with a stinging hex.

“Well, about that...” Potter began, but before he could complete the thought, a blinding light came on behind them. Frantic voices began to holler as the alarm was sounded.

“They've noticed I'm gone,” Draco said, gripping Potter's hand desperately.

“We have to go,” Potter said, holding Draco's hand and tugging them further into the woods, away from the house. The other two followed, and they were running together through the trees. The sounds of pursuit were getting closer, and a familiar panic began to overcome him. His attention was diverted and he tripped over a tree root, stumbling out of control, the certainty of capture and death threatening to drown him, until he felt the tug of Potter's grip on his hand, urging him on with a frantic “Hold on, Draco,” and he was filled with such certainty and determination he was able to regain his footing and keep up again, as the cries began to fade behind them. He could see the other two running beside them, which was odd, because he'd never seen them in his dreams and...

Draco gasped in a shocked breath, pushing his legs harder as he looked up at Harry, remembering suddenly how he had woken up, just before Harry had entered his life again.

“This way,” Harry said pulling him to the left and down a steep hill toward an almost hidden path below. The others were right behind them, slipping down until they hit the bottom, then running, always running until they could only hear themselves, panting breaths and pounding feet. They turned sharply and Harry tugged him to the side again, ducking under a few tree branches before stopping suddenly.

Draco braced his free hand on his knee, panting desperately to draw fresh air into his lungs. He was not accustomed to the exercise. Being trapped in one room for five years did not allow for such aerobics.

“Everyone okay?” the redhead asked, already regaining his breath.

“I think we've lost them, but we need to go now,” replied the girl from beside Draco. She took out her wand and held it up, level with her shoulder. Draco didn't have long to wonder what on earth she was doing because the next moment there were bright lights and a blaring horn, immediately in front of them.

Draco jumped back with a shriek, terrified until he felt Harry's hand pull him closer, his amused voice calming Draco as he spoke. “It's the Knight Bus...it's a little startling at first, but it's going to take us home. Not the smoothest ride ever, but underage wizards can't be choosers.”

Draco looked at him, wondering what he was talking about, but Harry pulled him forward again, so he followed. Trusting Harry had worked so far. The other two were already stepping up to the door that had opened at the front and the girl was paying for all of them before bustling them inside and up a set of stairs at the back of the bus. Before Draco had time to take in his surroundings, they were sitting on two rickety beds, staring at each other in awkward silence.

Finally, the bushy headed girl spoke up. “I'm Hermione Granger,” she said, speaking to Draco. “And this is Ronald Weasley. What was your name again?”

Draco shot a glance at Harry, who was biting his lip as he watched them. Draco's stomach churned. “It's Draco, and I'm very pleased to meet you both.”

“Surprised, as well, I'd wager,” she tilted her head, studying him.

“Yes,” Draco replied, glancing at Harry again.

“You look familiar,” Ron said, watching him no less intently. “Have we met somewhere?”

“I doubt it,” Draco sneered, not liking the his intense gaze. He was positive that this was one of the Weasleys his father used to complain about, and the thought was not very comforting. His stomach was feeling a bit sick, all the scrutiny combined with the drop in adrenaline and the sudden realization that his parents would likely be punished for his escape were leaving him with a sour taste in his mouth. His head began to spin as the girl spoke up again.

“Ron's right, you do look familiar. What's your last name?”

“Guys, lay off a bit, he's had a hard night,” Harry said, shifting closer to Draco protectively. Their shoulders were touching now, and Harry felt warm against him. It was soothing.

“Well, where did he come from, Harry?” Hermione said. “It's rather suspicious, don't you think?”

“Not really,” Harry answered. “He was in the room, and there was no weapon, so you can relax. Our information was wrong.” The other two shared a look.

“How can we be sure he's not a spy? He could tell them where we are, it could be a trap," Ron demanded.

“He's not a spy, Ron, I promise.” Harry's fingers squeezed gently, and Draco realized that they were still holding hands and that somewhere along the line their fingers had entwined. He was nervous and suspicious of Ron, but he found that he quite liked it.

“But how do you know?” Hermione demanded, her eyes dropping to their joined hands.

“I just do, alright? I can't explain it. Anyway, how is he going to tell them where we are, he doesn't even have a wand!”

“Why not? What kind of a wizard doesn't have a wand?” Ron was sneering at him now, but not nearly as good as Draco. He sneered back, showing him how it was done.

“The kind who's been a prisoner for five years,” Harry snapped back. Draco closed his eyes and leaned more heavily against Harry's shoulder.

“What!?” the other two exclaimed in tandem. “What do you mean?” Hermione asked.

“I mean, I know that the weapon isn't there because Draco told me so. He's been kept there for five years, against his will, and that's why I couldn't leave him there. Our information was wrong. There is no weapon, just Draco,” Harry said.

“But that's...I don't understand, Draco, why...” she stopped and Draco could feel all their eyes on him, even though his were closed.

“Draco?” Harry said. “Draco, are you alright?” His voice was low and urgent, so Draco opened his eyes, letting his head rest against Harry's shoulder, looking up into his concerned eyes.

“I, uh...I don't feel very good,” he said in a whisper.

“It's okay, I've got you.” Harry said comfortingly. He let go of Draco's hand and wrapped an arm around his shoulder instead, pulling Draco against his chest securely. He looked up at his friend. “You can ask him your questions later, let's just get home first.”

“Alright, Harry,” Hermione said quietly, and Draco closed his eyes again. Harry was warm and solid beneath him, and his heartbeat was reassuring. Quiet settled over Draco and soon he found himself drifting off, lulled by the rocking of the bus and the presence of the boy he'd been dreaming of his whole life.

*

When Draco woke up he could hear the others talking, so he just kept his eyes closed. He felt much better, more able to maintain the calm that his father had taught him. Truthfully, he hadn't been given many opportunities to make use of the skill, but he was determined to be good at it.

“...are we going to do then? The prophecy says you need the weapon, and now we're out of options.”

Draco started listening earnestly now. He felt distinctly at a disadvantage, he'd put his life into the hands of these people, on the strength of a split second decision and a gut feeling. If he wasn't so completely sure that he was safe with Harry, he would be panicking right about now. Okay, so maybe a part of him was anyway.

“I'm sure we must have miscalculated somewhere,” Draco could hear the frustration in the girl's...in Hermione's voice.

“You, miscalculate? Doubtful.” Ron replied with a snort.

“Ron's right, we took the information he gave us and I'm positive that we were right. We're missing something.” Harry's low voice rumbled through his chest and into Draco's. It felt wonderful.

Ron gave Draco an appraising look, the looked pointedly at Harry. “Are you sure he isn't lying?" He said in a low voice. "Honestly Harry, you don't even know him,” Ron was cut off by Harry's sharp reply.

“Leave it Ron. I can't...I don't know why I know, but I know. I can trust Draco. There's something about him, it's just...it's there, alright? I believe him.”

Ron huffed and Hermione sighed. “Alright Harry. We believe you. Oh, Ron, honestly,” Hermione snapped in response to Ron's mumble, “you know what Harry's intuition is like, so if he says we can trust Draco, we can.”

Ron huffed again and all Draco could think was 'what a child.' He wasn't terribly fond of the Weasley, but perhaps he'd get better over time.

“I think we should go over the prophecy again tomorrow,” Hermione went on. “Perhaps we've interpreted it wrong.”

“Maybe,” Harry sighed. Draco loved the steady rise and fall of Harry's chest against his back. He was generally not comfortable with people touching him, a symptom of being alone so much perhaps, but that didn't change the fact. He liked being close with his mother, her hugs were strong and comforting enough to keep him going during the long stretches of isolation, but the touch of someone his age, another boy his age...he'd not been this close to anyone like this since he was twelve.

“I wish we could ask Dumbledore,” Hermione mused quietly.

“Right,” Ron chuckled humorlessly. “You know he'll just ask a bunch of questions and then tell us they'll take care of it and we shouldn't worry our pretty little heads about it.”

Harry chuckled. “Well, Hermione and me, perhaps,” he said. Hermione giggled when Ron exclaimed “Oi!” But it was good natured and loosened the mood considerably.

“We'll figure it out,” Harry said. “But right now my focus is Draco. We need to decide what to do with him, and why Riddle was keeping him prisoner for so long.”

“Wanna stay with you,” Draco said before he realized he had thought it. Harry tensed behind him, his arm tightening around Draco's waist, where it had fallen.

“Draco, you can't just stay with me, it's really not safe,” Harry said quietly, his breath hot in Draco's ear again.

“Can,” he said sullenly. He opened his eyes to see Ron looking out the window and Hermione entranced with a thread on her robe. He tipped his head back to meet Harry's eyes. “I can, and I will," he said firmly.

The moment seemed to freeze when Draco realized how close their lips were. It would be barely the work of a second to lean in and press his lips to Harry's. Wait, where had that though come from? Draco knew all about sex and attraction and kissing, well, in theory anyway, but he'd never considered kissing a boy before. Was it even done?

Harry's eyes were incredibly green, bright and wide and Draco found himself sinking into them. He knew those eyes, almost as well as his own. The though of what it would be like to kiss Harry thrilled and terrified him. He shivered, still feeling safe and warm in Harry's arms, but now a little restless too. As if he needed to do _something_ or he'd be frozen here forever, balanced on a precipice he didn't understand.

The moment stretched impossibly long, until a sharp cough from Ron drew Harry's attention from Draco. Draco dropped his head again, his cheek flushing with unwelcome warmth. He had all but forgotten about the other two, and it seemed that Harry had as well.

Harry cleared his throat and went on. “Wouldn't you rather go home to your parents or something? We can arrange to take you where ever you need to go to be safe," he said. Draco sat up fully, pulling himself out of Harry's arms reluctantly, and turned to face him.

“Going to my parents is the worst possible thing I could do," he said. “They won't be able to hide it, if they know where I am. They'll be punished for this, I'm sure.”

Draco looked at the other two, suddenly feeling the weight of three gazes on him. “What?” he asked, confused.

“Your parents know you're there?” Harry asked, his voice low, but not the low and soothing type. He sounded dangerous. Draco shivered, understanding a bit more of why Riddle was so frightened of this boy.

“Of course they do,” Draco said. “They're allowed to see me every week, we have lunch on Sundays. And sometimes Mother visits during the week.”

“I don't understand,” Hermione interrupted him. “Your parents allowed you to be caged like some kind of beast? Why didn't they do anything about it?” She was clearly horrified. Ron was looking at him with pity in his eyes, and suddenly Draco couldn't stand him.

“What could they have done? Riddle is too powerful, and Father is...” He trailed off. He wanted nothing more than to be free of Riddle, but he couldn't tell his Father's secrets either. “They had no choice, okay? Riddle controls all of us, and all they could do was obey, so they'd be able to see me.”

“But, I got you out easily, surely your parents could have,” Harry began, but Draco cut him off.

“Please, Potter. Are you really that dim? My Father is marked, he can't just leave. And home is the first place Riddle will look if I...” He trailed off again as the reality of the situation crashed down on him. He doubled over, arms wrapped around himself.

“Oh, god, he's going to hurt them," he whispered harshly. “What have I done?” The panic began to overcome him, he could feel himself hyperventilating.

A large hand gripped his shoulder, another rubbing circles on his back. “Draco, it's okay.” Draco shook his head, denying Harry's words of comfort.

“Draco, it's not your fault. You had to get out while you could, if your parents love you, they'll understand. They'll be proud of you.” His words were convincing, but Draco was unmoved.

“No, he'll punish them. He'll kill them...I, I've killed them,” Draco was panicking fully now, the tears slipping down as he realized the impact of his escape.

“Draco, look at me,” Harry said. “Look at me, dammit!” His hand gripped Draco's chin and pulled his eyes upwards. “It will be fine. They'll just be so happy that you're free, it'll be fine, I promise.” He brought his other hand up to cup Draco's cheek, his warm palms bracing Draco's shaking face.

“I promise,” he repeated, and the shakes began to subside. Draco knew it was impossible that Harry could protect his parents, but the words, just the words, just Harry's promise was enough to calm him.

“Okay,” he said, almost too quiet to be heard.

“Okay,” Harry replied, then gave him a small smile. “You'll be fine too,” Draco took a deep breath, staring once more into those bright eyes. He nodded, letting Harry pull him into a hug. Almost. Before they could quite manage it, the bus lurched to a stop.

“We're here,” Hermione said, standing up. “Let's get inside quickly.” The other three agreed, filing out of the bus onto the pavement. Once the bus had lurched off again, the other three moved down the road toward a block of dark, grimy houses. Draco stared at them as they passed; there were flickering lights coming from several of the windows, Muggle cars parked on the side of the road, trash cans and brightly coloured bins filled with paper and metal. There was a stench of rotting things and something heavy and oily, but, as repugnant as it was, Draco loved it. It was the smell of freedom.

Harry took his hand when he slowed down, tugging him further up the road, squeezing it tightly when a sudden bang came from one of the houses and Draco jumped. It was unnerving and exhilarating at the same time. They stopped in front an unbroken stretch of fence, and suddenly Draco noticed that Ron had disappeared.

“Shit,” Harry swore under his breath, turning to Hermione with a despairing look, which she returned. “What are we going to do?”

Hermione shook her head without responding. Draco jumped when Ron appeared beside him, his voice echoing around the quiet street.

“What's the hold up?” He asked, looking from Harry to Hermione and back.

“Ron, you twit, what do you think?” Hermione said, her lips pursed. “It's under Fidelius.”

Draco frowned. Fidelius? He remembered studying the charm and, if their house was under one, this was going to be a problem.

“Oh, right,” Ron said, leaning against the fence. “What are we going to do?”

“I don't kno...” Hermione was interrupted by a shout from Harry.

“I know!” Harry exclaimed. “Wait here,” he said, squeezing Draco's hand before dropping it and disappearing into the unbroken fence before any of them could respond.

“What's he on about?” Ron asked, but Hermione just shook her head.

“I don't know,” she replied.

They waited in awkward silence for a few moments and Draco could feel their eyes on him, measuring him. He felt nervous without Harry there, adrift without Harry's grounding presence. The minutes passed with no sign of Harry's return, and the panic began to rise up in him again, but the other two, though perplexed, didn't seem to be bothered, so he pushed it down. Harry would be back soon.

As if willed into being, Harry appeared from the fence where he'd vanished, holding a scrap of paper in his hand. He thrust it toward Draco with a grin.

“Here,” he said, slightly out of breath. Draco reached out and took it tentatively.

“What is it, Harry?” Hermione asked. Despite their short acquaintance, Draco got the distinct impression that she wasn't the type who liked to be out of the loop. He turned it over, seeing a flowing script but only a few words.

It read, _The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix are at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, London._ '

“Harry, what,” Draco began, but when he looked up to Harry the words died in his throat. He watched, amazed as the houses they were standing in front of began to move, pushed out of the way by another house that was appearing directly in from of him. It was darker and run down, the black face of it broken only by grimy windows and crumbled flourishes. The fence parted as well, revealing a gate and a path that lead across a dry, brown lawn.

“Wow,” he said, looking at Harry again, eyes wide. “So that's how a Fidelius works.”

“Pretty cool, huh?” Harry replied, grinning back at him. “Now let's go, we don't want to be seen.” He took Draco's hand again and led him down the path toward the house, where a dingy 12 was attached to the door over a snake shaped knocker. Hermione and Ron followed and he was herded into a long narrow hallway, holding Harry's hand tightly as he was lead past what looked like a troll's foot with several umbrellas in it, and a rickety looking coat rack.

Harry turned to him, holding his finger over his lips in a gesture for Draco to be quiet. He nodded, and Harry led them past a large, curtained picture frame and up a dark staircase. They were all silent until they were safe in a cramped bedroom filled with old furniture and musty smelling bedding. Draco wrinkled his nose, but he sat beside Harry on one of the beds without hesitation.

“Harry, where did you get that?” Hermione asked, her eyes wide with confusion.

“I remembered that I had it in my trunk,” Harry replied smugly. “Dumbledore gave it to me before we left Hogwarts and when I asked him why, he just said that I might need it in the future.”

“Crazy old man,” Ron said, laughing.

“Yeah, so I thought, but here we are," Harry replied, smiling back at his friend.

“But it doesn't make any sense,” Hermione said. "How could he have known what we were planning to do?”

“How does he know anything?” Harry replied with a shrug. “He just knows.”

Ron accepted his answer with a nod, but Hermione was not so complacent. “But how did he know Draco was there? Or that Harry would help him escape?”

“Well, it's Harry, isn't it?” Ron said. “He has that saving people thing, of course he wouldn't leave Draco there.”

“Yes, but how did Dumbledore know Draco was there?” She was not ready to accept Ron's easy answer. “And, more to the point, how did he know what we were going to do?”

“He's Dumbledore,” Harry said.

“Who is Dumbledore?” Draco cut in.

“He's the Headmaster of Hogwarts,” Harry said, giving Draco's hand another squeeze.

“So, you all go to Hogwarts, then?” Draco asked, fascinated. “I wanted to go there, but my father wouldn't allow it.”

“Why not?” Ron asked. “Who is your father, anyway?”

“He never said why,” Draco said, ignoring the last question. Ron was far too suspicious, and Draco might know that Harry could be trusted, but he wasn't so sure of this loud, immature friend of his. Besides, considering the way his father had spoken of the Weasleys, perhaps he would do better to keep quiet. “They sent me to Durmstrang instead.”

“But, I thought you'd been imprisoned by Riddle for five years,” Hermione said, fixing Draco with a stern look. “How old are you anyway,? You barely look fifteen.”

Draco sneered at her. Who did she think she was? “How would you know?” He snapped. “You don't look like much of a witch, but here you are.”

Hermione's eyes narrowed at him. “There's no need to be rude, I'm just curious.”

“Well, I'm curious what kind of witch doesn't know how to use Sleakeasy's," he shot back.

“Stop it, you two,” Harry said firmly. “There's no need to argue. I would like to know how old you are, if you're older than me, like these two.”

“How old are you?” Draco asked Harry.

“I'm sixteen, but my birthday is next month. July 31st," he replied.

“Oh, I am older than you!” Draco beamed at him. “I turned seventeen just today, oh, I mean yesterday.” Harry smiled back at him, and Draco's stomach was fluttering madly.

“June 5th, then,” Harry said. “That's good to know. So you only spent two years at Durmstrang?”

“Yes,” Draco said.

“That's...pretty cool actually. Some students from Durmstrang came to Hogwarts a few years ago for the Triwizard Tournament.” Harry said. “It's too bad you couldn't have been there,” he added, looking at Draco thoughtfully.

“It wouldn't have mattered at any rate,” said Hermione. “Draco's our age and all the Durmstrang students were seventeen then.”

“Still, it's nice to think about.” Harry smiled at Draco, getting a return smile from Draco. Their eyes held for a few long moments and something in Draco wanted to open up to him then, to tell him about the dreams he'd had all his life. How he'd been dreaming of Harry, why he felt as though he already knew him.

A yawn from Ron distracted him, reminding him of the other two. No, now was not the time to make that confession, not with Hermione listening intently and Ron...there. The ginger boy yawned again, this time Draco yawned in reply. He was exhausted, it was almost dawn and he had hardly slept that night. After the ritual he had struggled to fall asleep, only to lose himself in a vision of Harry.

Harry and Hermione followed, all of them caught in the web of sudden tiredness.

Hermione spoke up first. “Well, I think we all could use some sleep. Harry, you have a pair of spare pyjamas for Draco, don't you? He can sleep in the room across the hall, it's already made up, I believe.”

Draco's stomach lurched at the thought of being parted from Harry, but he realized he had no reason to protest. It was better than his former situation, at least he could come and go as he pleased. Not that he would be leaving any time soon. He'd go where Harry went.

“Yeah, sure,” Harry rose and took a shirt and some pyjama pants out of one of the ornate but battered dressers in the room, handing them to Draco. “I'll show you where the bathroom is, and then your room.”

“Okay,” Draco said.

Before he knew it, Draco was bundled into Harry's baggy pyjamas, his face freshly scrubbed and his teeth brushed. The room he was in was quite a bit smaller than the one Harry and Ron shared, with room for a bed, wardrobe and a small table with an old fashioned lamp on it. He sat on the bed, looking apprehensively at the bedspread. A faint smell of musk permeated the whole house, and this room was no exception. At least the bedding was clean.

Draco sighed heavily and curled up under the blanket. He was a mess of emotions, all of them swirling through his head, one after another. Fear of the unknown, elation at being free, distress about missing his parents and utter relief knowing that he would not have to bond with Riddle. Overriding it all was his complete joy at having met Harry, of being safe with him. He clung to that thought, poking it with his mind until the other feelings finally settled, and eventually he drifted into a restless sleep.

Harry found himself unable to sleep and for once; the roaring snores from the bed opposite were not what was keeping him awake. Ron had slipped out a while ago to use the bathroom but had not returned. Harry knew he was in Hermione's room and while the thought had disconcerted him in the past, he was remarkably sanguine about it this time. He was far too busy thinking about Draco to wonder what those two were up to. Draco was a mystery, and Harry was sure that he was hiding something, holding something back. He had a feeling it was important but he was also sure that it wasn't something that could be harmful. He sighed, rolling over in an attempt to get comfortable enough to calm his racing thoughts.

Little time had passed before there was a tentative knock on his door. It opened almost immediately and Harry recognized Draco in the dim light from the hallway. He was dwarfed by Harry's old pyjamas and he looked lost, like a small boy and not the young man Harry knew he was.

“Harry?” Draco asked, crossing the threshold and closing the door behind him.

“I'm here,” Harry answered pushing himself into a sitting position. “Are you okay?”

“I...not really,” Draco admitted, taking a few more steps toward the bed. “Ron's not here?”

“No, he mostly sleeps with Hermione, when there aren't any adults here,” Harry said. He bit his lip, regarding Draco curiously. “Do you want to sleep here tonight?”

Draco's face lit up as if Harry had hit a switch. “Yes, thanks,” he said, bouncing across the room and crawling right under the covers beside Harry. He curled up on his side, one hand tucked under Harry's pillow, facing him. Harry settled down beside him, swallowing thickly as the scent of Draco filled his nostrils. He took a deep breath, which did nothing but make it worse. He had intended that Draco sleep in Ron's bed, but now that he was happily ensconced in Harry's own bed, he didn't have the heart to kick him out. Even though it was difficult to think with him so close. Difficult not to lean in and suck that pouty bottom lip into his mouth.

Harry settled his head beside Draco's on the pillow, noting how close their lips were, licking his in reflex. He'd never met someone who had caused such a reaction in him before. Not the few girls he'd liked, or thought he had, before he realized he was gay, nor the boys who had interested him since then. Draco was a brand new creature. He was lovely and enticing and prickly as a hedgehog. His social skills were even more lacking than Harry's; but he supposed that could be understood. But here, with his head resting so close to Harry's, he was intoxicating.

Draco opened his eyes, staring right into Harry's from scant inches. Harry swallowed, his cock coming to life under Draco's grey gaze.

“Is this okay?” Draco whispered, his hot breath a burst across Harry's flushed face. He swallowed again. Now was the time, Harry had an out, he could tell Draco he was uncomfortable and ask him to sleep in Ron's bed.

But he didn't. He tried to tell himself it was because he didn't want to hurt Draco's feelings, but that was a lie. He wanted Draco close, closer than he was now. He wanted to see what might happen if they slept side by side, under the same blankets.

“Yes,” he replied. “It's fine.”

He was rewarded by a soft smile from Draco, who shuffled a little closer before closing his eyes again and breathing deep and even. Harry sighed. There was little chance he'd be able to sleep with Draco so close, and he knew it. It was going to be a long night. Still, the sight of Draco's contented face warmed his heart, and the feel of Draco's body beside him made feel as content as Draco looked.

Harry closed his eyes, breathing deeply of Draco's scent and falling into sleep, despite his certainty that it would not happen.

He awoke to a tingling, achy arm that was pinned to the bed. He blinked, trying to clear the sleep from his eyes but stopped when his face came into contact with something impossibly soft, something that smelled really good. He breathed in deeply, confusion warring with arousal until he realized what it was.

Draco.

*

 **  
_May 1996_   
**

Harry's sixth year was hectic and confusing. The prophecy about the White Dragon was always in his mind, taunting him with its possibility and inevitability. He must find it, otherwise all hope was lost, but how should he even go about it? He knew that asking Dumbledore was the fastest way to information, but it would also come with a lot of pressure and guidelines. Harry wanted to pursue this by himself, without an authority figure overseeing him.

Dumbledore was currently searching for the remaining Horcruxes, giving Harry time to learn in the interim. But Riddle was gaining power, both physically and politically, so they would have to make a move before too long. His changing of tactics had worked, it seemed; the very same people who had refused to join Lord Voldemort were flocking to the banner of the handsome, smooth talking politician, Tom Riddle.

He spent quite a bit of time with Dumbledore, which was illuminating and confusing at the same time. They covered a lot of topics, including Riddle's childhood, his first rise to power, the circumstances surrounding the creation of his Horcruxes and his defeat by Lily Potter's love for her son. Learning about Riddle's Horcruxes was terrifying, he knew first hand how deadly they were and how well they worked. It was a lesson he would never forget, so learning there were more of them chilled him. They also talked about the prophecy which Harry was still amazed by; his prophecy.

He kept expecting Dumbledore to bring up the second prophecy, he must know about it, Harry thought...but he never did. He did, however, have Harry study the blueprints of Riddle Manor that he had recovered from the Muggle town it neighboured, as well as the wards and protections that surrounded it. While it was interesting, Harry didn't know why he needed to study all this; certainly they would want to confront Riddle on neutral ground, but Dumbledore insisted. The reason why came to Harry at last when Dumbledore mentioned that one particular room was said to house the legendary White Dragon, a weapon of great power.

Harry froze, his mind whirring. He tried to act cool, but Dumbledore must have noticed something, as Harry was not a good actor. He didn't say anything about it however, to Harry's relief. And when Harry tried to question him further, he simply said it was a "weapon of great power, to the wizard who knows how to use it.” Then he added an unhelpful, “put it out of your head, dear boy, that is a tale for another time.”

Harry rolled his eyes and allowed Dumbledore to change the subject, but he didn't put it out of his mind at all. He thought about it incessantly, as a matter of fact. He picked out the fastest and safest route inside Riddle Manor to the room where the White Dragon was kept, and studied the wards more intensely with Hermione. They put together a tentative plan to liberate it, as the prophecy determined he must, but Harry was more than a little apprehensive about it. It would help if he knew anything about what they were looking for. On the other hand, there was plenty of time before they would be able to implement the plan, so he supposed more research was in order. Hermione would be delighted.

The problem with that was that they had been unable as of yet to find anything relating to a White Dragon, besides the obvious references in the magical beasts section of the library. It was frustrating for Harry, but he feared Hermione was taking it the worst. Having uncovered nothing at all, it seemed her winning streak was coming to an end. Harry couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of Hermione on a broomstick with a book.

It was the beginning of May when the Death Eater attack came. Harry had long suspected that Theo Nott was up to no good; he had been acting more suspicious than ever, and of course, the cursed necklace, the poisoned mead and Harry's inability to get into the Room of Requirement when he was certain Nott was in there bore out his theories.

All these things culminated in the invasion of Death Eaters into Hogwarts. Fortunately, their goal was thwarted, with much help from Harry's Felix Felicis. However, the school was badly damaged, Bill Weasley was killed and Dumbledore critically injured. Harry realized that, if he hadn't given his friends the Felix Felicis, the aftermath could have been much worse. If losing Bill Weasley to a Death Eater's wand was supposed to be lucky, he didn't want to imagine what would have happened otherwise. They had to leave school early, so he wasn't even able to talk to Dumbledore about it, but he was grateful that the Headmaster had been well enough to ensure that Ron was still allowed to join him and Hermione at Grimmauld Place, after Harry escaped the Dursley's. Harry knew that the time had come to liberate the White Dragon from Riddle, and that they had to act quickly as Riddle was gaining influence even as his Death Eaters were spreading fear. They had to destroy the Horcruxes, true, but without the White Dragon Harry feared he wouldn't have a chance. Prophecy had shaped his life, and he had no reason to doubt it. Once Harry had arrived at Grimmauld, he set to research immediately. The Horcruxes, the White Dragon, not to mention a way to get past Riddle's wards. When Ron and Hermione joined him, they continued their research. Harry was beginning to feel itchy, and desperate. Time was running out.

*

They were all gathered in the kitchen for lunch, Hermione still flipping through one of the tomes she had liberated from the library, when Dumbledore made an unexpected visit. He had been successful in locating a locket, that he had been led to believe was Slytherin's locket but, unfortunately, it had proved to be a fake. He tasked them with finding the true Horcrux, and engaged them in a discussion about Riddle Manor and it's protections.

“I hope very much that none of the Horcruxes are currently in the Manor,” Dumbledore said as he sipped his third cup of tea. “It is indeed a shame that we are not aware if one is kept there, for a day is fast approaching that would be ideal for a retrieval mission, should such a thing be needed.”

“Oh?” Harry said, nearly choking on his tea as Ron elbowed him in the ribs.

“Is there something important going on?” Hermione asked. “Perhaps it's a good time to send someone in anyway, to have a look around.”

“Oh, I do not think the risk is worth the effort, not without actual information about the item and its location,” Dumbledore replied. Harry and Hermione shared a significant look. Of course they knew well that the White Dragon was being held there and where. Hermione had also studied the type of wards extensively, she was sure she could adjust them to allow Harry entrance, if they could put their plan into motion.

“Exactly what is happening that night sir, if you don't mind me asking,” Hermione could not help but dig for a more information, and Harry was quite grateful.

“I have it from impeccable sources that Riddle has a reverie planned on the evening of June the fifth. If the event follows the precedent that Riddle's followers have set in the past, the house will be nearly empty for the entire evening. It is a shame that such an opportunity will be missed, but even if we were more certain of the possibility, we have no idea where it would be kept, and what protections may be in place.”

“I suppose you're right,” Hermione agreed. “It is a shame.”

“Well, if we determine that there is Horcrux at the Manor, we will have to find another opportunity to retrieve it. But I do not believe it is very likely that Riddle would keep such a crucial item so close to where he resides. He is better served placing them in disparate locations, in case of an attack.”

“It does make sense,” Harry said. “He wouldn't want to risk losing a Horcrux, in case he was killed again.”

“Yes, exactly,” Dumbledore replied. “Well, I believe it is time for me to go. Plenty of repair work to be done at Hogwarts. We are planning to begin early for those students still needing their NEWTs and OWLs. Yes, Miss Granger,” he held up a hand, silencing Hermione before she started. “Professor McGonagall will be in touch with you shortly.”

“Harry, my boy,” he said as he stood, smoothing his robes down. “If you would see me to the door. Good day Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley.”

“Goodbye Professor,” Hermione said, as Ron echoed with his own goodbye. Harry stood, giving them both a look before following Dumbledore up the stairs to the foyer. They moved quietly past Mrs. Black in her portrait and then stopped at the front door. Dumbledore looked down at Harry with a fond expression.

“I have something for you Harry,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small piece of paper, folded in half. “I have a feeling you may be needing it in the near future, and while you might think me daft for giving it to you, please do keep it safe.”

Harry took the paper, unfolding it to find the address of the very house he was in written in Dumbledore's handwriting.

“Sir, I don't,” Harry began, but he was cut off.

“Nonetheless Harry, I demand that you keep it safe until you need it. Trust me on this, please.”

“Yes sir,” Harry said, putting the paper in his pocket. “I will.”

“Good. Now, I will be off. Just do what you need to do, Harry and the rest will be taken care of,” Dumbledore gave him a wink and slipped out of the door, closing it silently behind him as Harry looked on bemusedly.

*

 **  
_June 1997_   
**

Draco woke up, cocooned in warmth and a feeling of safety, something he hadn't felt since he'd been forced from his mother's side so many years ago. A pair of strong arms were wrapped around him, one pillowing his head and the other draped across his hip. Harry's chest was pressed against his back, his breath fluttering across the back of Draco's neck. He shivered, it felt delightful.

The previous day came rushing back. His birthday gift had been dinner with his parents before the ceremony forced on him by Riddle, after which he had been escorted back to his room to await the solstice that would bond them permanently. He had gone to bed almost immediately, sleeping restlessly until the dream of Harry that had forced him out of bed. Then Harry's arrival had turned his whole world upside down. The escape, Ron and Hermione, the Knight Bus and finally, 12 Grimmauld Place. He remembered being unable to sleep in the room he'd been given, and asking Harry if he could sleep with him.

He blinked a few times, trying to sort it all out in his head. He was distracted when he felt Harry's arms tighten, heard him breathe deeply, his nose nestled in the short hairs at the back of Draco's neck.

“Harry?” he whispered tentatively, unsure of the protocol in cases such as this. Harry was aware, or Draco's query had awoken him, because his body tightened, pulling back from Draco even before his arm was levered out from under Draco's body.

“I'm so sorry,” Harry began, pulling away completely and getting out of bed quickly. “I'm so sorry, I didn't mean...you were asleep and, that is, I was asleep too, and I didn't know...”

Draco laughed at his unease. “It's alright, Harry, I understand. I didn't mind, truly.”

Harry stopped his nervous pacing, much to Draco's relief. “You didn't?”

“No,” Draco answered immediately. “Did you? Is it a bad thing? I've never been in a situation like this before.”

Harry stood very still now, staring at Draco with wide eyes. “Well, I haven't either,” he said.

“Oh,” Draco replied, looking down at the bedspread. "Have you never woken up in a snuggle before?"

“A snuggle?” Harry asked, gobsmacked. “No, I...I've never slept beside anyone before.”

It was Draco's turn to be gobsmacked. “But...didn't you sleep with your parents when you were younger?” Harry shook his head, his hair more askew than usual.

“No, I...well, I don't remember them,” Harry said sadly, sitting on the bed once more.

“Oh, I forgot, I'm sorry,” Draco said, leaning over to rest his hand on Harry's thigh. Harry twitched, but didn't get up again. “Didn't your guardians snuggle you? You were very young when you parents died, surely they...” He trailed off at the anguished look on Harry's face.

“My aunt and uncle didn't care much for me,” Harry said. “They resented that they had to care from me at all, so I...no. I've never been snuggled.” He looked up into Draco's grey eyes, wondering how such a cold seeming colour could be so warm but, on Draco, it was.

“Well, that's horrible,” Draco said, moving closer to Harry again. “I haven't seen much of my parents for the past few years, and it had been a while since I'd begun sleeping on my own, but...well, I remember waking up between them since, well, since I can remember. They always kept me safe, until I was old enough to take care of myself.” Draco talked on, without needing any type of response from Harry, who was glad of it. He didn't know how to respond. Draco had been locked up for five years, away from the world, kept away from his parents at the will of a madman, but from the sound of it, he had been given more affection, had been shown more love in the time before his incarceration, than Harry could have conceived of during his entire childhood.

He found himself suddenly jealous of Draco, despite knowing that he'd been a prisoner of Riddle for the past five years, for Merlin knew what purpose. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice that Draco had stopped talking and was gazing at him curiously.

“Harry, are you okay?” he asked, moving even closer to Harry. Before Harry could respond, there was a knock at the door.

“Harry, are you awake?” Hermione's voice called out.

“Yes Hermione, I'm up,” he replied.

“Good, Dumbledore is here, he'd like to speak with us. Also, Remus and Mrs. Weasley have arrived for lunch, it's almost ready.”

“Okay, we'll be out in a few minutes,” Harry said, cringing even as he said 'we.'

There was a moment of silence as Hermione absorbed the information. “Well, I won't bother waking Draco, then,” she said wryly. “Dumbledore wants to see him too.”

“Okay,” Harry said, unclear as to what, if anything, he should add. What do you say when you've spent the night spooning with a boy you've just met, and your best friend catches you out?

There was another pause, before Hermione's footsteps could be heard making their way toward her room where Ron was likely still asleep. Harry looked over at Draco, blushing a bit at the tempting picture he made.

“We should, uh...we need to go,” he stammered, ignoring the way Draco's flushed cheeks and messy hair made him want to sink back onto the bed and kiss Draco senseless. His blush deepened. “Dumbledore doesn't like to be kept waiting, he's quite busy.”

Draco nodded, dragging himself out of bed with all the enthusiasm of a Niffler in a bin of cheap plastic trinkets. Harry couldn't help but grin at him as he felt he felt much the same way. He wasn't looking forward to the explanation Dumbledore would no doubt require. And while he wasn't thrilled about the inevitable lecture, he was almost as apprehensive about Mrs. Weasley's reaction, though hearing that Draco had been a prisoner would soften her up almost immediately. To Draco, anyway. She wouldn't be pleased with Harry, Ron and Hermione for sneaking out. For that matter, neither would Remus.

Harry sighed. It was shaping up to be a very long, tiring day. He glanced over at Draco, amused to see him riffling through Harry's dresser, scoffing at the clothes and generally making a mess.

“Don't you have anything worth wearing in here?” Draco asked scathingly. “I can't meet new people in my pyjamas. Especially since they're your pyjamas. It's just not done.”

Harry crossed the room, stilling Draco's search while pulling out a pair of jeans and a t shirt for himself. “Why don't you wear what you wore last night?” Harry suggested, confused as to why Draco needed different clothes at all.

Draco gasped, his face a picture of shock. “Wear yesterday's clothes? But, they're dirty. That's disgusting, I couldn't.”

Harry stared at Draco for a few moments, unsure whether to throw his hands up in defeat or laugh until he cried. Draco's outrage was amusing, over such a small thing.

“No one here cares what you wear, Draco,” he explained.

“What kind of people don't care about basic hygiene?” Draco's face was, if possible, even more shocked.

“It's not...I mean, we,” Harry ran a hand through his hair. “We care about hygiene Draco, but if your clothes are still clean, why not wear them again? Doing the laundry is time consuming, and we just can't spare that kind of time for something so trivial.”

“Trivial?” Draco was shaking his head in wonder. “Cleanliness is never trivial, Potter. Besides, that's what house elves are for. Honestly.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “We don't have house elves Draco, we do everything by ourselves,” Harry said, sighing again.

“No house elves!” Draco was scandalized. Harry was bemused at how someone so utterly lacking in social skills could at the same time be such a stickler for upper class ideals. As if he was trained but had never had a chance to use that training in context.

“Well, until we can get you some new clothes, it will have to do. You hardly wore your clothes last night, so I'm sure they'll be fine for the day, okay?” Harry reached out and gripped Draco's shoulder, rubbing his thumb across the bare stretch of collarbone visible where his pyjamas dipped. Draco shivered, a reaction which caused Harry's cock to twitch in interest. He pulled his hand back quickly, and turned to put his own clothes on.

“We should get moving, they'll be waiting for us.” He heard Draco let out a long sigh, before he moved to the door.

“Alright,” Draco said, “But you'll have to wait for me, I have no idea where to go.”

Harry looked up at him and grinned. “No problem.”

*

Draco hurried across the corridor to the room he'd been led to the night before. He shucked the overlarge pyjamas, folded them and placed them beside the clothes he had left there the night before. He dressed quickly, not at all happy about wearing the previous day's clothes, but he understood Harry's point. He had barely worn them, and without house elves, he had no idea how to clean them. He'd have to ask Harry for help later.

When he was dressed he sat on the bed to wait for Harry, still trying to come to grips with what had happened in the last few hours. He thought that he should be panicking a lot more, but Harry's presence was like a balm to him, easing the fear of the unknown and the distance from his parents.

Harry knocked a moment later, pushing the door open and peering in. “Ready to go?”

“Yes,” Draco stood up, taking the hand that Harry held out to him.

“It'll be alright,” Harry said, giving Draco's hand a squeeze. “Everyone is really great, and they'll understand why you're here.” He smiled at Draco, who couldn't help but smile back. He followed Harry out and down to the entryway, then to the staircase at the back of the house that led to the kitchen.

Everyone was seated on benches around a long wooden table taking up the bulk of the room. Draco spotted Hermione talking to a chubby red haired woman, who Draco decided was Mrs. Weasley, Ron's mother. Ron was devouring a plate of sandwiches, but looked up to grin at Harry and Draco when they entered. Draco sneered at his mouth full of food. Ron was a bit of a slob.

Then Draco noticed the two men deep in conversation at the head of the table. There was a very old looking man in bright robes, his long silver beard pooling on the table. He was talking to a frail looking man with greying hair and worn out robes. Both men looked up when Harry cleared his throat, pulling Draco further into the room with the hand that was still holding Draco's.

Draco blushed as he quickly became the center of attention. He held Harry's hand tighter and moved closer, half hidden behind Harry's body.

“Everyone, this is Draco,” Harry said, tugging him out a bit, introducing him to the newcomers. Draco nodded at each in turn, a little overwhelmed. He hadn't had this many people focusing their attention on him for years, not including the ritual that Riddle had performed the previous night, but that had been disconcerting for entirely different reasons. Dumbledore stepped closer as he was introduced, holding out a hand for Draco to shake.

“Mr. Malfoy, how wonderful to see you doing so well. I must admit to some worry about you, these last five years.” Several jaws dropped as Dumbledore turned to Harry. “Harry, I am quite pleased that you were able to recover young Mr. Malfoy so quickly, I had feared you would ignore my hints and miss the opportunity. That would have been most disastrous.”

Dumbledore stepped back, gesturing to the table. The others were still silent, staring in wonder at Draco, and Harry was fidgeting a bit at their shocked looks.

“Please, do sit down boys. Molly has prepared a lovely lunch for us, and there is much to discuss.” He turned his attention to Mrs. Weasley. “Molly, if you would?” She snapped out of her trance, nodding as she moved to set another tray of sandwiches and a bowl of fruit on the table for Harry and Draco.

Harry sat, tugging Draco down with him. He picked up a sandwich, aware that the room was still silent. Before he could speak up, Ron belatedly exclaimed, “I thought you looked familiar. Malfoy? You're joking, right?”

He was staring at Draco with ill disguised repulsion, which, after his acceptance the night before, kind of hurt.

“Yes, _Weasley_ ,” Draco sneered. “Is there a problem?”

“No,” Harry began, but Ron spoke up again.

“Yes, there's a problem. We all know the Malfoys are filthy Death Eaters. If you're one, you must be as well. You were in Riddle's house, after all.”

“Ronald,” scolded Mrs. Weasley, even as Hermione smacked her boyfriend on the arm.

“I knew he was a spy, Harry. He tricked you into bringing him back with us, even now they're probably track...” He never finished the sentence, silenced by a word from Dumbledore.

“Mr. Weasley, you are quite mistaken. Mr. Malfoy is no more a Death Eater than I am, he has truly been held hostage by Tom Riddle since the age of twelve.” He said authoritatively.

“But sir,” Harry spoke up at last. “If you knew about Draco, that he was kept there, why didn't you rescue him before?” Harry moved closer to Draco, protectively.

“Because it was not my place to do so,” Dumbledore replied. “It was your task to liberate him Harry, in accordance with the prophecy.”

“But Riddle could have hurt him,” Harry insisted. Dumbledore shook his head.

“No, Harry. Despite his keeping Draco against his will, Riddle intended him no harm, quite the opposite. You do remember the prophecy, do you not?”

“Yes,” Harry said.

“Riddle intended to bond with Draco, thereby keeping him from giving assistance to you. By binding Draco's power to his own, even if Draco had escaped, he would have been powerless to help you.”

“I don't understand, sir.” Hermione spoke up, raising her hand as if she was in a classroom. “The prophecy says that the power of the White Dragon will enable Harry to defeat Riddle. It doesn't say anything about Draco.”

“Doesn't it?” Dumbledore replied. “In fact, Draco Malfoy is the White Dragon. There is nothing in the prophecy that precludes him being so. Riddle's actions have proven that he is, in fact, the weapon that will enable Harry to bring about his defeat.”

“But what, exactly, is the the power he possesses, Albus?” Remus Lupin spoke up at last, eyeing Draco speculatively. “How can we be sure that the prophecy has been interpreted correctly?”

Draco was stunned. He had listened to the discussion, amazed to hear that he was the subject of a prophecy, the same as Harry had been. He knew about his magical status, he knew that he could be used to help another wizard, indeed Riddle had intended to use that power himself, by binding Draco to him. Yet he knew, with utter certainty, that Dumbledore was correct, he had felt it before, when he saw Harry's picture for the first time. He was meant for Harry. While he didn't have a clue what power he had that Riddle had desired, or what he could so to help Harry defeat him, he had the proof that he was meant for Harry, and Harry for him.

“I've dreamt of Harry,” he said, quietly, too quiet, perhaps for the others to hear him over their discussion. But they did, as all eyes turned to him.

“I'm sorry Mr. Malfoy, could you repeat that?” Remus said.

“I've dreamt of Harry,” he repeated, flushing as he glanced up at them, all frozen in astonishment. Draco took a deep breath and continued.

“I've dreamt of Harry every night, as long as I can remember. It was just flashes when I was young, just glimpses of him. And he wasn't a child, I always saw him as he is now.”

“Indeed?” Dumbledore said. “Please, go on.”

“I, uh...” Draco glanced around nervously, unused to the attention. “Like I said, it was just glimpses. Harry smiling, laughing, crying. Sometimes he was angry and scowling, and other times he looked sad. But it was always his face, as it is now. Over the years, the dreams changed, and I saw him more. They were repetitive, like visions of the future.”

Draco glanced up at Harry, blushing under his scrutiny. “I didn't know they were the future, but they must have been. Last night, before I woke up and Harry came to get me, I had the most vivid dream ever, but it was one I'd had before.”

“What was the dream?” Dumbledore prompted. Draco hesitated, but Harry took his hand again, squeezing it before lacing their fingers together.

“I was running. Running through a forest, terrified. I tripped, almost falling over, but the hand that was holding mine pulled me upright again, and a voice urged me to continue. I looked up and it was Harry, it's always Harry. He was telling me not to be afraid, so I wasn't. I woke up before we stopped running, but then...well, then it happened.”

“What happened?” Remus asked.

“Harry came into my room, looking for a weapon. I guess it was me, but we didn't know that.”

“So, you left with him?”

“Yes,” Draco said, looking Harry in the eye now. “He was so sure we could escape, that he couldn't leave me there. And I'd been dreaming of him my whole life, I just knew I had to go with him. As if I'd finally found him and I couldn't bear losing him again." He looked down, embarrassed.

“Weren't you afraid?” asked Hermione, but Draco shook his head.

“No, I was with Harry. Why should I be afraid?” Harry squeezed his hand again, and Dumbledore beamed at him. "Besides, after the ritual that evening, I knew that I had to get out of there. Riddle was going to bind me to him at the solstice, and I doubted I'd ever have another chance to escape."

“Indeed you would not have,” Dumbledore said. “And once the ritual was completed, your magic would have been bound irrevocably to Tom Riddle.”

“But why?” Ron spoke up again. “What's so special about him? And how can a _Malfoy_ ,” Draco cringed as Ron practically spat out his name, “ever help Harry?”

“You should not be so quick to judge, Mr. Weasley, despite any injuries his father may have inflicted on your family. Draco is completely innocent of his father's crimes.”

Draco glared at Dumbledore. “What crimes?” he demanded.

“Your father killed my sister!” Ron yelled, standing up, bracing his hands on the table top and leaning across it toward Draco. “And he tried to kill all of us, just last year. He's a despicable Death Eater, and you're just like him, I know it!”

“Ronald!” Mrs. Weasley stood up, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “However Lucius Malfoy was involved in Ginny's...” She trailed off, seemingly unable to continue her sentence. She took a deep breath and continued. “However he was involved, it is not Draco's fault. He was just a child then, as you were, and he is not responsible for the actions of his father, however horrible.”

“I don't understand,” Draco said, glancing from one Weasley to the other. “My father would never...”

“He did!” Ron interjected. “He slipped a book into my little sister's cauldron five years ago, and it possessed her! It killed her, and your father is to blame!”

“Mr. Weasley,” Remus stood up, pulling Ron away from the table, turning his focus away from Draco. “Now is not the time to be laying blame. However Lucius Malfoy is responsible for Ginny's death, none of it falls to Draco. He is on our side, or have you missed how close he's become to Harry?”

“Too close, and too fast. How do we know it's not a trap?”

“We all understand your frustration, Mr. Weasley.” Dumbledore spoke calmly but firmly. “But the blame must be given where it is due. It was Tom Riddle who is responsible for the death of your sister. Lucius Malfoy was not aware of the true nature of the diary when he placed it among Ginny's possessions, I am certain of this. He is not blameless, to be sure, but the fault is with Tom Riddle. Who, as you are aware, took Draco Malfoy prisoner and intended to bind his magic, against his will. I am also certain that Lucius Malfoy, whatever his allegiances, is not happy about it.”

Ron opened his mouth,as if to argue, but Dumbledore held up a hand in warning. "I know you are angry, but we cannot allow past grievances to distract us from the matter at hand. Draco is on our side, and you would do well to remember it."

Ron glared at Dumbledore for a moment before turning his gaze to Draco, who was clinging to Harry, pressed close against his side. His face was white with shock.

“I don't believe it,” Ron spat, pulling away from Remus. “He's a Malfoy, and they can't be trusted. I won't have any part of this.”

The rest watched, shocked as Ron left the room, stomping up the stairs before slamming out the front door. A horrible shrieking began from the entryway. Remus sighed deeply. “Hermione, would you mind helping me with Mrs. Black?”

Hermione nodded, smiling weakly at Draco before standing and following Remus out of the room. Before long the shrieking stopped and Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

Mrs. Weasley wiped a her eyes before reaching over and placing a hand over Draco's, giving it a squeeze. “I'm sorry about Ron, Ginny's death affected us all very much. That doesn't excuse Ron's behavior but...well, I'm very sorry.”

“It's alright,” Draco said, giving her a sympathetic look. “I'm sorry if my father was involved, I can't imagine...” He took a deep breath, shaken by Ron's harsh words.

“Of course you can't,” Mrs. Weasley. “He's your father and we all believe the best of our loved ones. Besides, I don't believe he intended what happened.”

“I am sure he did not,” Dumbledore interjected. “Whatever his intentions, I am certain Ginny's death was not the outcome he intended. It was truly a terrible accident.”

Mrs. Weasley sniffled again, patting Draco's hand before standing. “I'll just be off then, there are things to do at home. Don't let it bother you, dear.” she smiled at Draco, dropped a kiss on the top of Harry's head and left, as Remus and Hermione returned.

“Well, that was an interesting discussion, wouldn't you say?” Hermione said to the room at large.

“It was most illuminating,” Dumbledore agreed. “And while we have much to discuss, I think it is best saved until after you boys have some lunch. Too much talk is hungry work. Perhaps we can all meet in the library, after you've had a chance to eat? 2 o'clock?”

Everyone nodded, so Dumbledore rose from the table. “Remus, perhaps you would join me there now? Let's leave the young people to their own discussion, shall we?”

Remus agreed, both of them heading up the stairs toward the library. Harry smiled at Draco, who smiled back weakly. He didn't have much of an appetite after Ron's outburst, but Dumbledore was right, he did need to eat. He picked up a sandwich and took a bite. It was quite good and he ate several, despite his nervousness.

When they were done, Draco and Harry went back up to Draco's room. They sat side by side on the bed, both of them unsure of what to say. Ron's outburst had been rather shocking, especially for Draco who had no idea about the things his father had done. All he knew was the man who loved him, despite his inability to free Draco from Riddle's clutches.

“Harry,” Draco began, looking at Harry uncertainly. Harry looked back at him, and some kind of understanding flowed between them. Harry shuffled closer to Draco, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, pressing them close together at their thighs, side and shoulders. Draco sighed and laid his head on Harry's shoulder for comfort.

Both boys were hyper aware of each other, feeling every part of their bodies that were touching. Draco's head was spinning, Harry's arms were strong and safe and he smelled so very good. It was all he could do not to tilt his head up and press his lips to Harry's neck, to taste the skin there.

Now wasn't the time though, if it was ever going to be. Right now Draco was worried about his parents.

“Did...my father, I mean,” Draco began again. “Did he really do those things? Did he really kill Ron's sister?”

“No,” Harry replied, stroking his spare hand over Draco's cheek and turning him so that he was looking in Harry's eyes. “He's not innocent Draco, I'm not going to lie to you. But he didn't know what the book he gave Ginny would do, he didn't know how dangerous it was. I think he just wanted to scare us. Unfortunately...”

Harry trailed off, his eyes shifting from Draco's to some unknown point over his shoulder.

“You were there. I mean, that day we met in to the bookshop...while we were talking, that's when your father left the diary in Ginny's cauldron.”

“Oh.” They sat quietly, each lost in thought.

“Harry?” Draco asked softly, bringing Harry's attention back to him.

“Riddle isn't a very nice man is he? I mean,” he paused in thought. “I mean, I've always known he wasn't...because he took me prisoner, although he didn't tell me that then. I think my father knew the real reason, but Mother still doesn't.”

“I want to believe your father is just stuck in a bad place he can't get out of, but Draco...that's not all he's done. He attacked us in the Department of Mysteries a few months ago...on the same night I recovered your prophecy. I didn't know it was yours at the time, but...”

“He attacked you?” Draco sat back, and Harry's arms dropped away.

“Yes, it wasn't the first time we'd run into him. Regardless of how he feels about Riddle taking you captive, he is clearly loyal to him. It scares me and makes me angry to think that you might go back to him.”

“I won't,” Draco said, placing his hand on Harry's cheek, mirroring Harry's actions from before. “I told you Harry, I've been dreaming about you.”

Harry nodded, smiling weakly at him. “I remember. Your whole life, really?”

“Yeah. And always this face,” Draco said, tracing his hand over Harry's cheekbone, his jawline, down to his neck. “I've seen you like this all of my life, grown into a man.”

“Wow,” Harry whispered. Draco realized how very close they were, he could feel Harry's warm breath ghosting across his face. Harry's arm was still wrapped around his shoulder and they were still pressed together.

“Yeah,” Draco whispered back. The air felt heavy in a way Draco had never experienced before. Harry was staring into his eyes, his gaze unflinching, filled with something that made Draco hot and itchy. Draco licked his suddenly dry lips, and Harry broke their gaze at last, to follow the motion of Draco's tongue.

“Draco,” Harry leaned closer, his eyes flicking back up to meet Draco's gaze once more, and his green eyes were even hotter than before. Draco shivered--the intensity of those eyes was something he had only seen in his dreams. Never this close, never this real. He swallowed, his throat tight with some unknown emotion.

“Harry,” he whispered back, leaning closer as if pulled by a magnet, by Harry's personal gravity. He shivered again as Harry's soft lips brushed over his, once, twice, just a feather light kiss that left him yearning for more.

Harry leaned their foreheads together, placing his hand at the back of Draco's neck and digging his fingers through the hair there.

“Draco,” he asked quietly, raising his eyes to Draco's. “Have you ever...”

But he was cut off by a sharp knock at the door.

“Harry, are you in there?” Remus' voice called through the door. “Dumbledore is ready for a chat now.”

“Thanks Remus, we'll be right out,” Harry called back. He sighed deeply, tracing his fingers across Draco's cheek before dropping his hand. He pulled his arm away from Draco's shoulder at the same time, leaving Draco feeling somewhat bereft.

“We'll talk again later, alright?” Harry stood and moved toward the door, smiling at Draco.

Draco nodded, licking his lips again, and rubbing his sweaty palms against his trousers before standing and following Harry out.

*

 **  
_February 1997_   
**

Shortly after his father's release from Azkaban, Riddle began to take dinners with Draco more often, almost every night. Draco was torn; while he loved having someone to talk to, he had never liked Tom Riddle and doubted he ever would. The small consolation he had was that they were rarely alone at these dinners. Draco's parents were permitted to join them, his father more often than his mother, but Draco was grateful for the visits any way he could get them.

They were also joined by his aunt, Bellatrix, who had been in prison as long as he could remember. He had no idea why she had been released, but it was clear she was mad. Draco thought that perhaps the Ministry was losing touch, if they had seen fit to release her.

As much as he disliked his aunt, she was far better company than some of the others who attended their dinners from time to time. Men like Walden McNair and Fenrir Greyback were in turns disgusting and terrifying. Draco had begun to dread evening, for fear that they would be there.

Their addition also turned the conversation to mudblood hate and pureblood rhetoric, which became tedious very quickly. Draco was certain of his own superiority as a pureblood, but the level to which these people took that was baffling. Draco found himself wondering often just what Riddle was attempting to accomplish and how successful he thought he would be.

Not that Draco would ever find out. At this rate he would never be allowed out of Riddle Manor.

One day, several weeks before his seventeenth birthday, Draco's father arrived during the afternoon, a rare occurrence as he usually visited for dinner. Even stranger was the summons that Lucius carried. It was unprecedented in Draco's experience.

“An audience?” Draco asked, as he dressed in the formal robes his father had indicated he should wear.

“Indeed. Mr. Riddle has declared that you are now mature enough to be told exactly why you are here,” Lucius said, adjusting Draco's robes.

Draco fidgeted and tugged at his robes, earning a warning slap of his father's hand. “At last,” Draco scoffed. “He kept me waiting long enough.”

“Now Draco,” Lucius scolded. “No need to be rude. Mr. Riddle has done you a tremendous service by protecting and educating you all these years. This knowledge was kept from you for your own peace of mind.”

“Peace of mind?” Draco asked, looking up at his father, his worry clear in his eyes. “Why would it make me worry?”

“You should not worry, but perhaps you would have been less sanguine about your situation had you known...well, it is not for me to say, you must wait until Mr. Riddle sees you.”

Draco looked up at his father who was fidgeting with the fastenings of Draco's robes. His father was attempting to hide it, but Draco was sure that he was as nervous as Draco was. Whatever the news was, Draco was certain it could not be good.

When they reached the audience chamber Lucius told Draco to be silent and to wait by the door until Mr. Riddle called for him. Draco had no problem agreeing, he would be as silent as the grave if it would keep him from Riddle's notice.

There were almost a dozen men dressed in dark robes gathered around a large table, chanting words that Draco did not understand. Lucius left him to join them, whispering a few words to Mr Riddle, who was seated at the head of the table. He nodded at Lucius, not sparing a glance at Draco. His attention was focused on a picture propped up in front of him. It was surrounded by candles and incense, from what Draco could see it was some kind of shrine.

The other men in the room ignored him as well, continuing their chanting as Lucius joined them. They seemed to be performing some kind of ritual or spell that was focused on the makeshift shrine. The chanting went on for a few more minutes until all the men began a complicated wand movement, one after another. The chanting reached a crescendo suddenly, many voices raised in unison along with their wands, which were then spun in circles, lowering gradually until they were all pointed at the map laid out directly in front of the picture.

Brilliant lights filled the room, joining one by one and then spinning together around the room as if the map was in the eye of a centrifuge. Draco watched in awe as the light became brighter and more concentrated as it spun inwards. At last, just before the light reached the map, it burst, exploding into an array of sparks that flew out of the room.

Draco's shocked gasp was drowned out by Riddle's enraged yell. He stood, clearly in a fury, dashing all the candles and paraphernalia from the table before grasping the picture and hurling it across the room. It smashed into slivers of wood and glass not far from Draco.

The gathered men cowered as Riddle raged, they cleaned up the mess as he made it, the candles, the incense, bits of paper and glass from the candle holders. All of it banished as Riddle continued what Draco considered to be a full blown temper tantrum. But he used the distraction well, inching across the wall toward where the picture lay shattered on the floor. He managed to shake the glass and broken picture frame away, folding the picture and placing it in his pocket quickly before any of them noticed.

He was almost too late. Lucius looked in his direction, noticing the pile of detritus under Draco's feet and flicked his wand to remove it. He stared suspiciously at Draco for a moment before turning back to Riddle who was now slumped in his chair with a snifter of some undoubtedly strong elixir.

“Find another way,” he declared to the room at large. The men shot nervous looks at each other, but didn't say anything.

“Find another way!” Riddle exclaimed. “Find him, or you will all pay the price.”

“Yes my lord,” The men spoke in unison, sending shivers up Draco's spine. They all turned to leave, filing past Draco and out through the door. He wished desperately in that moment that he was one of them, that he could leave as well. But he didn't even know who they were or what their business was. It was hopeless anyway. Riddle had fixed his eyes on Draco now, gesturing him forward.

“Draco, come here,” he said, and Draco had no choice but to do as he bid.

Draco approached the table taking the seat his father indicated, to Riddle's left and across from Lucius.

“Hello sir,” Draco said respectfully, keeping his eyes downcast. He didn't like looking into Riddle's eyes, it always left him feeling a sense of utter dread.

“How are you today, my boy?” Riddle asked.

“Fine, sir,” Draco said, not looking at his father either. The sense of dread was building already.

“You are approaching your seventeenth birthday, are you not?”

“Yes sir,” Draco replied.

“Well, it seems the time has come to tell you what is to come,” Riddle said, accepting a new glass from a shivering house elf.

“I would like that very much, sir.” Draco said, trying desperately not to fidget. Lucius looked very nervous as well, which was not helping Draco in the slightest.

“Well then, I will get right to the point,” Riddle said. Draco barely suppressed a snort, retorting in his head, 'at last.'

“Draco, I know you do not understand this power that you have, that has motivated me to keep you here. In fact, that is because, simply put, it does not exist yet.”

Draco looked up, meeting Riddle's eyes for the first time. There were as cold and dangerous as ever.

“If it doesn't exist, then why,” Draco began, but he stopped when Riddle held up a hand to him.

“It is because you my dear boy, are a priceless creature indeed. Your power is rare and may only be harnessed by bonding to another. I intend to be that person, for your own safety. The benefits to me will offset my sacrifices quite nicely, I think.”

Draco was shocked, staring at Riddle and then his father in turn, his mind spinning.

“Do you see why I have kept you here, Draco? If the wrong person were to understand what you are capable of, they could enslave you against your will, twisting you into something horrible, for their gain. I could not allow you to be treated this way, so I made the choice to keep you here, safe from the world that would seek to abuse you.”

Draco sat for several minutes, staring straight ahead, avoiding his father's eyes as well as Riddle's.

“What are you going to do with me?” Draco asked quietly after a seemingly interminable pause. Riddle's words had caused an epiphany, the words that sounded so very concerned for his welfare, so compassionate.

But Draco knew they were not. He understood in that moment that everything Riddle had proclaimed to protect him from was exactly what he intended to do. The dread had reached an apogee, filling him with a sense of utter wrongness, a certainty of maliciousness that had only been hinted at during his years imprisoned. Riddle had kept him away from the world in order to keep Draco for himself. He was intending to use Draco for the sake of power, Draco was sure of it.

“On your seventeenth birthday I will begin a ritual that will ensure your safety for the rest of your life,” Riddle said. Draco glanced up at Lucius, who was sitting as tense as a bowstring in his chair. Draco had never been more certain of anything in his life.

“How will it do that?” he asked, in a near whisper. The strength and hope was leaving him in a rush.

“We will begin a bonding ceremony on your birthday that will culminate at the summer solstice. It will bind you to one person, so that no other will ever be able to hold you against your will.”

“No one but you,” Draco said, rubbing his sweaty palms on his robes. Riddle's words had confirmed his fate, no further explanation needed. Almost five years of silence and holding his tongue, wondering without any answers was about end, and the result was tearing through Draco in a rush of desperation, anger and fear. He knew it was going to happen, but he couldn't stop himself. He didn't want to.

“Excuse me?” Riddle said, fixing Draco with a look that made him want to hide.

“You will bind me against my will so that you can have the power for yourself. That is why you've kept me a prisoner here.” Draco said firmly, meeting Riddle's gaze once more. The dread was still there, but now it was tempered by the knowledge that, no matter what he did or said, Riddle could not do worse to him than he already intended.

“Draco!” Lucius scolded, his face the picture of horror and shame.

“Silence, Lucius,” Riddle demanded, turning directly toward Draco. “What is the meaning of this insolence, boy? After all I have done for you, all I am sacrificing to keep you safe, how dare you treat me like this?” His voice was cutting and his tone cold. Not that Draco expected any less.

“How dare you treat _me_ like this!” Draco exclaimed, pushing his chair back as he stood.

“You've kept me a prisoner here under the facade of hospitality for almost five years, telling me nothing and punishing both my parents and myself by keeping us apart, all so you could use me to further your own pursuit of power! You want nothing more than the power you think I can give you, which makes you no better than those who you say you're protecting me from. But it's all a lie! Isn't it?” Draco was furious, leaning forward on the table in a threatening manner, despite the helplessness of his position.

“Who are you, to think that you have the power to make these choices for my life? It's mine!” Draco turned to face his father then, letting the rage course through him.

“And you! You have stood by and let this happen! You let him take me away and keep me here and for what? So that I could be bound in slavery for the rest of my life? Why? What for?”

Draco was on a roll, but the train was coming to a halt, and fast. Before he knew what had happened, he was on the floor, screaming in pain as every synapse in his body was stimulated to the point of collapse. It went on and on, every second that passed felt like an eternity, until Draco was sure he would pass out from the pain. Before he could gain a release in unconsciousness the pain stopped, as abruptly as it started. Draco found himself panting, his endurance pushed past anything he thought was possible, his muscles still screaming with remembered pain.

He was pushed from his side with the toe of a boot, flipped until he was on his back, staring up at the twisted but handsome face of Tom Riddle.

“Apparently you are not as clever as I supposed, boy.” Riddle said with a sneer. “Did you not realize? The reason why I have the right to demand this price from you, and why your father has never dared to disagree?”

Draco shivered, the terror making him shake despite his body's recovery. Riddle stood tall above him, an imposing figure indeed, his wand pointed directly at Draco.

“I,” he said in a chilling, horrible voice, “am Lord Voldemort. Your father belongs to me, as he has since I marked him. And you, as his son, are my property as well. Your life is mine, Draco Malfoy. A fact you would do well to remember in the future, when you feel your mouth beginning to run away with you.”

Draco nodded, utterly speechless. Voldemort? But he was dead. Harry Potter had defeated him, fifteen years ago. It was impossible, but somehow it was true, of that Draco was certain. There was no other man to whom Lucius Malfoy would sacrifice his only son. He should have realized it sooner.

Draco's blood ran cold with the realization that there truly was no hope at all that he would be able to make an escape from this life that was being forced upon him. He was young, slight, and his lack of experience was as detrimental as his lack of a wand. He was helpless in the face of the greatest and most horrible wizard in centuries.

“Lucius!” Riddle barked, turning away from Draco's prone body. “Get him out of my sight. And see to it that he's prepared for the ceremony, and imbued with respect befitting my presence. I will not suffer this type of outburst again, conduit or not.”

“Yes my lord,” Lucius replied, moving quickly to pick Draco up. When it became clear that his legs could not support him, Lucius waved his wand and Draco felt suddenly weightless and disoriented as he was levitated. Lucius moved out of the room quickly, Draco's floating body right behind him. Before Draco was aware of the passing corridors, he found himself dropped onto his bed, jarring his mind back to the present.

“I cannot look at you now, you foolish boy,” Lucius said, his voice as cold as his eyes. “I will be back tomorrow to see to your proper education. Until then, I suggest you use the time to change your attitude. You have been given a great gift, Draco. You would be wise to remember it.”

And with that he was gone, the door promptly locked behind him. Draco sat alone in the middle of his bed, his head reeling with all that had passed, his body still aching from the brutality of the Cruciatus Curse. It was then that he remembered the hastily folded picture in his pocket. He drew it out with shaking hands, unfolding it carefully to get a good look at the person who Riddle had been so desperate to find.

Draco's surprise was great when he looked at the boy smiling out at him from an eerily still photograph. Although trapped on the paper crudely for eternity, the bright green eyes that looked out at him were familiar. More than familiar, Draco knew them better than his own. They were the eyes of the boy he'd spent his life dreaming of. The face of the only one who filled Draco's heart with hope at the very thought of him. They had never met, but Draco had always thought that this boy was the only one who could save him from Riddle. Now he was more certain than ever.

Did Riddle know? Had he found a way to see Draco's dreams? He had never mentioned it, but then again, neither had Draco so that didn't mean anything, really. Was that why Riddle was so determined to find him? Still, the truth was incontrovertible. The boy Riddle was desperate to find was the boy Draco had spent his life dreaming about.

*

Everything changed after that night. There was no more hiding behind falsehoods, no more pretending. Draco was not invited for dinner with Riddle again, nor did they take walks. Draco could not find it in himself to regret it, despite his utter loneliness and isolation. His biggest concern was that his birthday was fast approaching, and there was no escape in sight.

Draco pulled that stolen picture from his pocket obsessively, studying the face of the boy in it until the creases were well worn and he knew every wrinkle by heart. This face had followed him throughout his life, had shadowed every dream with his presence. Draco was certain that he was meant, not for Riddle, but for this boy he was desperate to find. Draco had seen his face almost every night of his life. Green eyes haunted him, now more than ever.

His dreams had increased in intensity and clarity since that night. They began to feel more like visions than simple dreams. In them the boy was interacting with him more, it felt real, as if Draco was really there with him. Draco wished badly that he were.

By the time his birthday arrived, Draco was apathetic and resigned to his fate. There was nothing he could do, alone, wandless, under lock and guard. All his studies were useless now. He ate very little of his dinner, alone as usual, completely ignorant of what was going to happen to him that night. His trepidation was extreme, and with good reason.

Strangely, he also felt rather apathetic about the whole thing. A sense of calm had enveloped him, balancing out the fear and hopelessness. He didn't understand it, but he wasn't going to fight it. He soon pushed away his plate in disgust, a guard opened the door and gestured him out. He sighed, bracing himself mentally for what was to come.

*

 **  
_June 1997_   
**

Harry and Draco found Dumbledore in the library, talking quietly with Remus. He smiled and waved them in. They sat together on the cushiest loveseat, pressed against each other while Dumbledore eyed them speculatively from his armchair.

“Hello boys,” Remus said, smiling at both of them. “I see that you two have become quite close in such a short time.”

Harry and Draco shared a look, and Harry couldn't help but grin like a fool at Draco's blush. “Yes, I know it's a bit odd, but...” Harry had no other explanation, being with Draco just felt right.

“I understand, Harry,” Dumbledore said. “I am not surprised, given the nature of the prophecy and the intensity of the bond you will forge.”

“Do you know more about it, sir?” Draco asked, fidgeting at Harry's side.

“Indeed I do, Mr. Malfoy. But we will leave that topic for a bit later in the conversation, if you don't mind.” Dumbledore nodded toward Remus.

“Albus tells me that you were forced to leave very quickly last night, Draco. I can't imagine you had much time to pack.”

“No, I...just have the clothes I'm wearing. And my journal.” Draco glanced at Harry again. He loved having Harry's brilliant eyes on him, but it was odd to be scrutinized so closely by the other men.

“Well, that won't do at all,” Remus said, sitting back with a laugh. “I have arranged with Hermione to make a trip to the shops to purchase some things for you, essentials, clothing and such. Is there anything else you would like us to pick up for you?”

“Oh, thank you,” Draco said, grinning for a moment before his face fell. “But, I don't have any money, how...”

Remus held up a hand, exchanging a look with Dumbledore. “The finances are well taken care of, there is no need to worry about that. But I would like to take a few measurements and discuss what type of garments you'd prefer.”

“Alright,” Draco said, standing when Remus gestured he should. Dumbledore looked at Harry while they were distracted, smiling fondly at him.

“I'm exceptionally pleased that you interpreted my hints correctly, Harry. Time was growing short and our opportunities to liberate Draco were few. There was the added complication that you were the only one who was able to accomplish the task. Not only does the prophecy demand it, but it is unlikely that Draco would have trusted anyone else.”

“So you knew about the prophecy all along?” Harry asked, somehow unsurprised that Dumbledore had known, that he had led Harry directly where he needed to go.

“Indeed I did.” Dumbledore look at Harry from across his spectacles. “However, I was unable to do anything about it. I was comforted by the fact that, despite his isolation, Draco was well taken care of. Riddle most certainly would not have harmed him.”

“Oh, well,” Harry said, watching Draco converse with Remus. They were interrupted when Hermione knocked on the door.

“I'm ready whenever you are, Professor,” she said.

Remus exchanged an exasperated look with Dumbledore. His insistence that his former students use his given name instead of a title that no longer existed had fallen on deaf ears. Well, as it concerned Hermione anyway.

“I'm ready,” he nodded to Draco and rose, rolling up a scroll of notes and putting it in his pocket. “We will be back before dinner, I hope,” Remus said with a grin before he and Hermione made their exit.

Draco came back and sat beside Harry, shifting nervously under Dumbledore's scrutiny.

“I am very happy to see the two of you together at last. And that you are getting along so well.”

“Well, we...it's been interesting,” Harry said, glancing at Draco again. He couldn't seem to stop himself from doing it. It didn't help that Draco was gorgeous.

“I imagine so,” Dumbledore said, his smile widening.

“Sir, you said you knew more about the prophecy, about what is bonding us,” Harry said.

“I do. I was fortunate enough to have heard the prophecy involving the two of you, and was able to interpret it correctly, I believe. Certainly, things have worked out in accordance with it, which confirms my interpretation.”

“So Riddle imprisoned Draco to keep him away from me?”

“Essentially yes,” Dumbledore became much more serious. “Riddle had already begun a magical bond with Draco on the evening that you rescued him. Had he been allowed to complete this bond, it would have hampered any bond Draco attempted to make in the future.”

“But would he have been able to use this so-called power I'm supposed to posses?” Draco asked.

“I do not believe so. And as you well know, Harry, I am very rarely wrong,” Dumbledore winked at Harry. “Based on my interpretation of the prophecy, I believe that Harry is the only one who can form a complete, mutually beneficial bond with you Draco. If Riddle had succeeded, he would have made that bond nearly impossible, but he would not have been able to avail himself of your power.”

Harry chuckled humorlessly. “I don't think he would be very pleased when he found that out,” he said.

“No, he would not. And I imagine he would take his anger out on Draco,” Dumbledore added.

Harry took Draco's hand and entwined their fingers. “Then it's a good thing we got you out of there,” he told Draco quietly.

“Yes,” Draco replied, meeting Harry's eyes. They held the gaze for a few moments, until Dumbledore cleared his throat, reminding them of his presence.

“Indeed it is. Not only is Draco safe here, but your bond must be allowed to develop naturally, without any outside hindrances.”

“Sir, I don't understand, just what does the bond entail? And how will it form?” Draco nodded along with Harry, he was just as eager to know what would happen to them.

“On that topic I am less certain,” Dumbledore replied. “I am not sure exactly what the bond will entail, or how it will be formed.”

“But what about my power?” Draco asked. “What are these powers I'm supposed to have, and what am I supposed to do with them?”

“I do not know that either,” Dumbledore said.

“So we basically know nothing,” Harry sat back, clearly frustrated.

“We may not know very much, but now things can transpire as they were meant to, and I feel sure that we will learn very much as events unfold.”

“So all we can do is wait,” Draco said, looking at Harry nervously. He smiled slightly when Harry squeezed his hand reassuringly.

“You are correct, Draco. There is nothing else we can do but what we have been doing.” Dumbledore leaned forward, hands on his knees and addressed Draco directly. “Draco, I would like it very much if you would tell me more about your dreams. How often you get them, how clear they are, and if there is anything in the background that you can see.”

“I, uh...no, there's nothing in the background. I just see Harry, usually pretty closely, as if his face takes up my entire field of vision.” Draco replied thoughtfully. “His face is always quite clear, but nothing else ever is.”

“And how often do you have these dreams?”

“Most nights. As far back as I can remember, honestly. Harry has always been with me, since I was a child.”

“I'm sure that brought you comfort,” Dumbledore commiserated.

“It did. Especially after Riddle took me.” Draco leaned into Harry a bit more, holding his hand tightly. “I always hoped that he would find me, it kept me...happy, I suppose. I never stopped hoping that he would find me, though I have to admit it faded somewhat when Riddle told me what he was intending.”

“I can imagine it would,” Dumbledore said. Harry turned to face Draco more fully.

“I'm sorry I didn't find you sooner,” he said solemnly.

“It's alright Harry,” Draco replied, smiling at him. “You saved me from him, just in time. None of the rest matters, it was all worth it.”

Harry smiled back. Draco was right. It was all worth it, now that he was here.

“Well, as there is nothing more we can do at the moment, let us change the topic,” Dumbledore sat back again. “Harry, I think Draco could be of great use to us in researching the Horcruxes.”

Harry glanced sharply at Draco. Dumbledore had previously told him not to tell anyone about them. He was grateful the Dumbledore was sharing this information with Draco; Harry felt distinctly uncomfortable with the idea of keeping anything hidden from him.

“Horcruxes?” Draco asked.

“It's a long story my boy. Lets call for some tea and get comfortable. We're in for a long afternoon.”

*

 **  
_June 1995_   
**

The prophecy glowed with a vibrant inner light that was visible from beneath the dusky orb that contained it. It seemed to be calling out to Harry, begging him to pick it up. Harry thought about resisting, but when he looked down and saw his name, he gave in. There was another name there but was obscured, perhaps if he wiped it off...

“Harry, what are you doing?” Hermione hissed, her wand out as if expecting an ambush at any moment. Harry picked it up, half expecting it to explode at his touch, but it didn't. The light burned brighter, and it pulsed beneath his fingertips.

“It had my name on it,” he said simply, giving Hermione a weak smile.

“Harry, over here!” Neville exclaimed for down the row, where Harry spotted another orb that called out to him. He pocketed the orb in his hand before moving to where Neville and Luna were standing. As he got closer he could see that the plate below it also had his name, as well as Voldemort's. Was this prophecy the reason his parents had been killed, why Voldemort had tried to kill him as an infant? A rush of anger overtook him as he reached out, plucking the orb off the shelf, holding it just a bit too firmly.

Shrill infantile laughter filled the space, echoing from all directions. The group of them closed, in, standing together in an attempt to protect each other, though they couldn't see who was there.

“Does ickle Hawwy think he's saved the day?” Harry spun around, searching for the source of the voice. “Too bad you're all going to die,” it continued, laughing maniacally.

“Silence,” another voice commanded. Harry watched as a dark shape moved forward out of the shadows. “Well done Mr. Potter,” said Lucius Malfoy. "You've done the Dark Lord a fine favour here, picking up that prophecy.”

“Harry, they've got us surrounded,” Ron hissed, but Harry's attention was directed toward Malfoy.

“Now be a good little boy and give it to me,” Malfoy demanded. “And I will spare your life, and those of your...friends.” The last word was said with a sneer.

“Never,” Harry snapped back. “I won't be a puppet like you, Malfoy.” He spat the name out as if desperate to get the taste of it off his tongue.

“You foolish boy,” Malfoy snapped back. “The Dark Lord holds far more power than you can imagine, and you will never succeed without...” Malfoy trailed off, but soon regained himself and continued. “Give up now boy, and he may spare your life. But I am taking that prophecy from you, dead or alive.”

“You'll have to get through us first!” Neville shouted, moving forward to stand right behind Harry.

Malfoy merely smirked as the room was filled with cackling laughter once more, as a woman with wide, mad eyes slipped out of the shadows behind Malfoy. “Look at the wittle Longbottom, trying to be just like daddy. Well you're on your own little Longbottom, daddy won't be coming to save you. I saw to that.” Harry recognized the mad woman as Bellatrix Black, the woman who had tortured Neville's parents to insanity. Sirius' cousin. He reached a hand out to grip Neville's arm in warning.

“We're not afraid of you!” Ron yelled from the other side of Harry.

“I'm not giving you the prophecy Malfoy, so you can just stuff it,” Harry said with a firm voice that he hoped hid his anxiety. There was no sign of Sirius, and he was well convinced it was a trap. How were they going to get out of this one?

“Well then, you leave me no choice,” Malfoy said, flicking his wand. The shadows around them gave way, revealing figures in dark Cloaks, hemming them in on all sides. They quickly formed a protective circle, backs to the center. Harry could feel Ron and Neville beside him as well as Hermione and Luna at his back.

They were trapped, but they were not defeated. With a whispered word to the others, Harry made his plan known. At the count of three, all five of them shouted _“Diffindo!”_ blasting the prophecies around them to shards that rained down on the Death Eaters.

The smash of the breaking glass was deafening as the group moved as one, running desperately toward the place where they had entered. Then chaos descended and Harry was lost in the battle.

*

When it was all finished, Harry sat on Ron's bed in the infirmary, slightly disgusted by the scars running up his friend's arms from the brains that had attacked him. Neville sat on the bed next to Ron's while Hermione and Luna were on the other side, both sitting a top the made bed, silent and mournful.

Harry took in a deep shuddering breath, his chest aching with the enormity of what had happened. The prophecy had broken, they'd fought desperately against the Death Eaters and, while chasing the fleeing Bellatrix, he'd been possessed by Riddle, which was not something that Harry wanted to remember, ever. Dumbledore had saved them, but Riddle had escaped before Minister Fudge and the Aurors had arrived. Predictably, Fudge did not believe that Riddle was even there, he certainly did not believe the man was a threat. Harry sighed. Fudge was useless. Lucius Malfoy and several other Death Eaters had been taken into custody, but Bellatrix had escaped with Riddle. Everyone else had sustained relatively minor injuries.

Except Sirius. He had not been wounded, but lost. Lost beyond Harry's reach forever, somewhere in the realm of the Veil. Harry shuddered, his chest aching as if preparing to burst open, his eyes hot and itchy with unshed tears. Now was not the time, so he blinked them back, forcing his attention back to his friends as Madam Pomfrey arrived to heal Neville's nose. She turned his head from side to side, waving her wand across it a few times and murmuring to herself.

“It's definitely broken, Mr. Longbottom,” she declared. “Now hold still, this will sting.” She pointed her wand directly at his face, incanted a crisp “ _Episkey_ ,” and promptly shushed his exclamation of discomfort.

“It will be back to normal in no time,” said, cleaning the blood from his face with another flick of her wand. “I will be back with pain potions for all of you, and I expect you to take it easy for a few days.” She gave them an unnerving gaze before turning away.

After she had gone into her office, the five friends shared a few pitiful looks. Everyone was raw, Harry most of all. He leaned forward to hide his head in his hand when he felt it. There was something very hard in his robe pocket and suddenly he remembered the second prophecy, the one he had retrieved first. He pulled it out of his pocket and stared into it for a moment, wondering what the point of it all was. Sirius was dead.

“I forgot about that,” Hermione's voice pulled Harry out of his thoughts. She sat on the bed next to him and reached out a hand. “Can I?” she asked, so Harry handed her the glowing orb.

She took it tentatively, balancing it carefully, as if it would fall apart if she breathed too hard on it. But the glow that infused the orb while Harry held it faded almost immediately, becoming dark and still in Hermione's hand.

“That's strange,” she said, but Harry just shook his head.

“No, it makes sense, actually. Dumbledore did say that only the person who the prophecy was about could pick it up. Me giving it to you is fine, clearly, but the prophecy doesn't involve you.” Harry reached out and took it back from her. The orb began to throb with light once more, as soon as it touched Harry's skin.

“Are we going to listen to it?” Neville asked. “It didn't come cheap, that's for sure.”

Harry gave him a weak smile. “I think I've had my fill of prophecies for the night, thanks.”

“But you have to listen to it,” Luna said. “It might be very important. If it was me, I'd want to know.”

Harry silently agreed with her. He did want to know, but not now. It was too soon.

“Not here,” he said. “I'll listen to it later.” He tucked the orb back into his pocket, as Madam Pomfrey reemerged from her office, carrying a tray of potions flasks.

“A little something for all of you, then you can return to your dorms,” she said, and began handing out flasks. Harry took his gratefully, hoping that perhaps it could give him some peace from the guilt and sorrow. If only it were that easy.

*

Harry spent several days contemplating the orb, unsure if he was ready to hear what it had to say. He was certain of one thing: he wouldn't break the orb at school. There were too many ears to overhear, and too much at stake. He sighed, hiding the orb in his trunk and warding it and placing an imperturbable charm to keep it from breaking. He'd tackle it later, when he had peace and time to think about it.

The time came two weeks into his summer vacation. The Dursleys had gone on holiday, leaving Harry alone in the house, which suited him fine. He remembering how he would long to go with them when he was younger, hating that he was left with Mrs. Figg, but now the opposite was true. Of course, the fact that he didn't have to stay with Mrs. Figg anymore helped quite a bit.

He sat at the kitchen table, rolling the orb through his hands, mesmerized by the glow of it, the light that was just waiting to be released. It was almost a shame to break it, but he had to hear it. The pain of losing Sirius had dulled into an ache that never left, but it was bearable, most of the time. However, this prophecy might be vital, and he had to know.

He knew he would only have one chance to hear it, so he set up a tape recorder he'd liberated from Dudley's room. Thankfully, it still worked. He also had a sheet of paper and a pen, so he could write it down. Hopefully it wouldn't be too long. He reached over and pressed 'play' and 'record' to set up the tape, then scooted sideways on his chair. Picking the pen up with one hand, he held the prophecy out over the floor with the other.

He took a deep breath and, before he could convince himself not to, he tipped his hand, sending the ball to the floor.

*

Ron's room was orange and cramped as usual and the bright summer sun baked through the roof, making it hot and stifling as well. Harry sat on Ron's bed, fiddling with the tape recorder that he had used to capture the second prophecy. He was tempted to listen to it again while he waited for Ron and Hermione, but he already had it memorized so he supposed it would be rather pointless. Better to wait for them, to get their thoughts on it.

Harry had been troubled ever since he'd broken the orb a few weeks ago. The prophecy it had contained did nothing to ease his doubts about facing Voldemort, and it answered none of his questions. If anything, it added more questions. Now he had the added worry of the White Dragon to burden him. If the prophecy was correct, and Harry had learned through experience that they were to be taken seriously, then he had to liberate this White Dragon, whatever it was, or face failure. Which was not an option.

Now he had to discover what it was, where it was, and liberate it and figure out how to use it, what power it had and then decipher how to get to Voldemort. He sighed. It was not going to be an easy task.

*

 **  
_June 1997_   
**

Draco threw himself onto his bed, not caring that he was fully clothed, or that he'd knocked over the bags of clothes that Hermione had fetched for him. Any other time he would pick through the items and complain about most of them, but this time he was far too exhausted to care.

“M'tired,” he mumbled into the pillow. Harry chuckled, and Draco felt the bed dip under his weight as he settled beside Draco.

“Me too,” Harry replied, pressing into Draco's side.

“That man can certainly talk, can't he?” Draco said, turning on his side to face Harry. Harry grinned up at Draco from the pillow.

“He certainly can. He'd likely still be going if Remus hadn't made him stop.” Harry mirrored Draco's position, so they were both propped on their sides. Draco couldn't stop himself from staring at Harry's red lips, thinking about the kiss that had occurred between them the last time Draco had felt this itchy tension settle around them. He wasn't sure just what it meant, but he knew that he wasn't ready for it. Not yet.

“Draco,” Harry began, but Draco interrupted him.

“It's time for bed, I think,” he said, pushing himself off the bed. He picked up a few bags and began riffling through them for some pyjamas. He pretended to ignore Harry as he also stood up and moved to stand at the door.

“Harry,” Draco said before Harry could leave the room, turning to face him.

“Yeah?” Harry replied, one hand on the doorknob.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” Draco asked. “Only, I slept better with you than I have in ages, maybe as long as I can remember. I didn't dream at all, and...” He trailed off, unsure of what to add.

“Yeah,” Harry said, his face softening. “Whatever makes you feel better,” he smiled at Draco, who smiled back brightly.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Great, I'll just...” He gestured out the door. “I'll be back in a few.”

“Alright,” Draco said, clutching at the bag he was holding. Their eyes met and held again, and neither of them moved. That seemed to be happening a lot, Draco thought. He wondered what it meant.

Then Harry coughed and turned away, opening the door and slipping out before closing it quietly behind him. Draco couldn't help but grin at the door. Being around Harry made him feel happy and safe, but also hot and giddy. He wasn't ready for more, even the little that he had a vague knowledge of, but he knew that he wanted it. He turned to the bags once more and began the search for his pyjamas.

*

Harry knew exactly what it meant. He was falling for Draco, and fast. He leaned back against the door, sighing deeply. He wasn't sure what Draco knew or what he thought about kissing, sex or relationships, but Harry was certain that what he was feeling, Draco was feeling too.

He pushed away from the door and slipped across the hall to his room. He was unsurprised to find Ron sitting on his bed, but was quite surprised to see that he was reading. Until he noticed it was a copy of the latest Quidditch Monthly that Hermione had brought back with her.

“Hiya Harry,” Ron said, not looking up from his magazine. His voice was tight, but at least he was making an effort. “All done with your little boy toy, then?”

Harry rolled his eyes. Sometimes Ron could be utterly pigheaded, and in this case Harry had no patience for it.

“You're going to have to get over this Ron, or you may as well just leave,” Harry said firmly, staring directly at his friend. Ron's head shot up in shock.

“Are you choosing him over me, Harry? That little Death Eater in training?” Ron threw aside his magazine in a fury.

“I'm not choosing anyone over anyone else Ron. But Draco is here now and he's on our side. He's on my side, despite what his father has done to us.”

“He killed Ginny!” Ron roared, his voice breaking on his sister's name.

“No, Ron,” Harry stood firm. “Lucius Malfoy may have been indirectly culpable for her death, but if you look at it that way, so was I.”

“Don't be crazy Harry, it wasn't your fault,” Ron said, quieter this time.

“She'd be alive if I'd gotten there sooner, or dealt with the Basilisk sooner,” Harry said sadly. The death of Ginny Weasley still haunted him.

“Harry, you were 12. You did everything you could, we all did...it just wasn't enough.”

“I was 12, that's right,” Harry said, nodding. He sat down on his bed, sighing. “And Draco was only 12 then too, and out of the country besides. Then he came home and was taken prisoner by the same man who killed Ginny. They're both victims Ron, just like my parents, just like Sirius.”

“It's not the same,” Ron insisted, but Harry cut him off.

“It is. Draco had no choice in the matter at all, and he was utterly clueless about his father's actions until today. He's been utterly cut off for five years Ron, and pampered and sheltered his whole life before that,” Harry paused, wanting his words to really sink in to Ron's stubborn mind.

“Ron, Draco is an innocent. He's had nothing to do with any of it. And he was going to be bound to Riddle for the rest of his life, against his will.”

“I can't believe you're on his side,” Ron huffed, pacing across the room to the small window.

“I'm not taking anyone's side. But you're going to have to get past this, Ron. Draco is with me now, and he's not going anywhere. He's mine.”

Ron spun around, shocked. “I knew it! Are you shagging him already, Harry?”

“No Ron, it's not like that.”

“It is too,” Ron insisted. “I've seen the way you look at him, and the way he clings to you. If it's not happened yet, it will,” Ron crossed his arms over his chest, standing firm. “Don't deny it, Harry.”

Harry dropped his head, and he couldn't help but grin when he thought of the way Draco made him feel. “Okay, I won't deny I have feelings for him, and that it's mutual. And yes, I think we will eventually be...more, but for now, it's not about that. It's about keeping Draco safe, and him helping us to research. He knows all kinds of things that we don't, so he'll be useful.”

Harry smiled again, his gaze unfocused as he thought about Draco. “He's really clever. He knows a bunch of things, and he's had experience with some of the darker stuff...”

“Wow,” Ron's exclamation pulled Harry from his trance. “You're actually falling for him, aren't you?”

“Yeah, I am,” Harry admitted, ducking his head sheepishly. “He's not going away, Ron. I need to come to grips with it, this is for real, I know it,” Harry said earnestly.

Ron sighed. “I'll try.”

“Great,” Harry smiled at him.

“Now let's go to bed before Hermione comes to nag us,” Ron said with a grimace.

“You're not going to her room tonight?” Harry asked, as he dug into his drawers for pyjamas.

“Not with Remus in the house,” Ron said. “It's not that we're too young or whatever, but if it gets back to my mother...” he trailed off. It was unnecessary to say any more.

“Yeah, I get it,” Harry said, pulling off his clothes and slipping his pyjamas on. “Well, you're on your own tonight, I'm going to keep Draco company. It's a big shock and a change for him, so I want him to feel safe.”

“You're sleeping with him?” Ron's voice raised again. “I thought you said nothing was happening yet,”

“It's not. We're sleeping in the same bed, not shagging each other,” Harry said defensively.

“Sleeping together can be more intimate than sex,” Ron said, blushing under Harry's baffled gaze. “Hermione's been telling me things,” he added.

“Right,” Harry gave him a suspicious look. “Well, you know where I'll be, if you need me.”

“Okay,” Ron said weakly. Harry stopped when he reached the door, pausing before opening it.

“I really hope you'll be okay with this Ron,” he said, fidgeting with the doorknob.

“Me too,” Ron said. “I'll try.”

“Thanks,” Harry smiled at him then slipped out of the room.

*

Draco fussed around while he waited for Harry to get back. A quick trip to the loo to brush his teeth and freshen up for bed later, and he found that he was quite nervous. He'd never slept with anyone like Harry before; sleeping with his parents didn't count. Harry was so very different, and the way he felt about Harry was different.

He was still coming to grips with it, with wanting Harry to kiss him again. He'd never imagined that two boys could kiss each other, or that they would want to, but it was very real to him now. He wanted Harry to kiss him again. He wanted to kiss Harry back. He wanted to snuggle Harry at night, where he felt safe. Draco sighed. He wanted a lot of things, though he didn't know how to go about getting them. Or if Harry wanted them too, though he seemed to. He had kissed Draco after all, and he did look happy when Draco asked him to stay.

Draco slid under the duvet, trying to be patient while he waited. After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened and Harry came in. The tip of his fringe was wet and when he slid under the covers beside him, Draco got a whiff of mint. He breathed deeply, loving the way Harry smelled.

“Thanks for staying here, Harry,” he whispered.

Harry whispered back, “It's my pleasure.”

They gazed at each other for a few moments, until Draco began to feel very drowsy. He closed his eyes and knew no more.

And just like that, their pattern was set. Their mornings were still a bit awkward, but it didn't stop them from spending every night together. Some days they woke up spooned around each other, some days they were back to back, or side to side and, on one memorable morning, Draco woke up draped across Harry like a blanket. It was absolutely wonderful, until Draco realized that he was hard and rubbing against Harry's hip. Then it became even more awkward.

For the most part, it was amazing. They got out of bed, danced around each other for a few minutes and then went about their day, which mostly consisted of research. They were searching for references to various Hogwarts relics, though Draco didn't quite understand why. Harry had told him about the Horcuxes, but Draco could not fathom that someone would actually do such a vicious, dangerous, depraved thing. Harry always smiled affectionately at him when he made his feelings known, which made Draco blush and brush it off. Harry was amazed at how soft hearted Draco was, what with being a Malfoy and indoctrinated by Riddle. Draco simply replied that, while he had completed his assignments, he didn't always care for the lessons. He couldn't fathom the desire to hurt people purposefully. But when he said this, it just made Harry grin wider, prompting Draco to roll his eyes and get back to the research.

They spent a lot of time in the library with Hermione and, more and more, with Ron. It was hard on him, accepting that Draco had nothing to do with Ginny's death, and more so that Draco was a good person. He was coming around, but wasn't quite there yet. Harry had high hopes.

He had been feeling more and more that Draco was meant to be in his life. Yes, the prophecy had declared that Draco was the power he needed to defeat Riddle, though the manifestation of that power remained elusive, but Harry looked forward to his life after Riddle, and he couldn't imagine any life in which there was no Draco. He was becoming increasingly dependant on the other boy, and he knew, without a doubt, that he was falling deeply in love.

They spent their evenings in each others company as well, playing chess, talking, reading or just being with each other. Both Harry and Draco looked forward to evenings immensely, the time they spent alone together was precious to them. It was on one such evening, about six weeks after he had liberated Draco from Riddle Manor, that Harry felt the shift.

He and Draco had only shared a few kisses since that night weeks ago, despite sleeping in each others arms, but Harry was very ready to move forward, and he thought Draco finally was too. On this particular night they were sitting on the roof. Before Sirius had died he and Remus and fixed up the observatory there, making it both safe and comfortable. It was Harry's favorite place. The bright sun or stars beaming down on him when he was there drove away the damp, dankness of the house itself, as if nature loathed the dark magic as much as Harry did.

They were sitting on the swinging love seat, staring at the stars when Draco shivered. Harry's automatic reaction was to shift closer and wrap his arm around the other boy, so he did. Draco snuggled in closer until his head was resting in the crook of Harry's neck, his soft breaths making Harry hot and achy.

Draco shivered again and when Harry looked down at him to see what was the matter, he found Draco staring right back at him, with wide, adoring eyes and soft, pink lips. Harry could no longer resist.

He leaned down, gently brushing his lips against Draco's as he had before, once, twice, three times before pulling back to look Draco in the eyes.

“I, uh...” he stammered, “is this okay?”

Draco nodded his head, licking his lips in a very enticing manner that had Harry ready to burst.

“Yes, please,” Draco said, wrapping a hand around Harry's neck and pulling their lips together again. They kissed softly for a few minutes, before Harry worked up the nerve to slide his tongue along Draco's lips, meeting no resistance as he slid it inside.

Draco moaned when their tongues met, gripping Harry tighter. Harry, annoyed with the awkward angle, pulled and shifted, never once letting his lips leave Draco's until the other boy was straddling his lap, his arms around Harry's neck and buried in his hair.

Harry's hands ran up and down Draco's back, clinging and kneading and pulling Draco closer, as close as he could get. The kiss was deeply passionate, their bodies fitting together like a puzzle and that was when Harry realized.

He wasn't _falling_ in love with Draco. He was _in_ love with Draco. Totally and irrevocably. He never wanted to let Draco go, not ever. He pulled back with a gasp, panting from lack of air and from the shock of his epiphany. He had known it was coming, yes, but to be standing face to face with the stark reality that he would never be complete without Draco in his arms was a whole other matter.

“Harry?” Draco asked nervously, and Harry realized that he had been silent for far too long. He looked right into Draco's eyes, the passion and love he saw reflected there sparking all his nerve endings to life.

“I was just thinking,” Harry said, his hands still rubbing up and down Draco's back.

“Good, or bad?” Draco asked. Harry almost kissed him again when his tongue swiped across his bruised lips.

“Good,” Harry replied, staving off the desire to snog Draco senseless. “I was just thinking about us, and how fast this has all happened. You don't think it's too fast, do you?”

“Oh,” Draco bit his lip, and Harry groaned. “No, I don't think so. I've dreamt of you my whole life, Harry. I'm already bound to you, didn't you know?”

“You are, aren't you?” Harry smiled, holding onto Draco's shoulders and pulling him in for another kiss. They kept at it until a spattering of raindrops drove them inside, hands clasped and laughing.

*

That night, for the first time in the almost three weeks since Draco had been rescued, he woke with a start, a cold sweat soaking his pyjamas and the pillowcase.

“Draco?” Harry mumbled sleepily, rolling to face him. “Alright?”

“No, I...” Draco trailed off, confused. He'd been woken sharply from his dreams many times over the years, but this time was very different. For the first time in his life, he'd dreamed something other than Harry. Or rather, more than _just_ Harry.

“What is it?” Harry asked, rubbing his eyes before reaching out to rub Draco's arm.

“I had a dream,” Draco replied, still staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of it.

“A dream? You mean, a vision?” Harry leaned up, looked down at Draco, one hand resting on his chest.

“Yeah,”

Harry stared down at his hand on Draco's still heaving chest for a moment before looking up and trying to meet his eyes. “I thought you weren't having them anymore,”

“I wasn't,” Draco replied. “Until tonight.”

“Oh.”

Harry laid down again, leaving his arms across Draco's chest, while snuggling into his side. They stayed that way until Draco's breath had evened out again.

“D'you want to tell me about it?” Harry asked, rubbing his thumb over Draco's collarbone.

“No, but...I really should.” Draco shifted closer, searching for the security that being with Harry offered him.

“Okay,” Harry said, tightening his grip. “Whenever you're ready.”

“It was...strange,” Draco began. “I mean, it's always been you. Just you, no one else. I've been in a few, but only...it's like I'm seeing it from my own eyes, you know? I see my hand, or my arm, or I know I'm doing something and I can see you looking at me, but it's always just you.”

“I wasn't in this one?” Harry asked, fascinated still with the knowledge that Draco had spent his life dreaming about Harry.

“Yes, you were but Ron and Hermione were too. And it was one of those ones where I was watching from my eyes, I was right there.”

“So the four of us are doing something? I think we can assume that it's precognitive, since you dreamt about running through the forest with me the same night I found you.”

Draco smiled at him, meeting Harry's eyes for the first time since they'd awoken. “Yes, I'll never forget that night. I'd been waiting for you Harry, and I didn't know it until you walked into my room.”

“I didn't know I'd been looking for you, but here you are,” Harry replied.

“Yeah,” Draco leaned up and kissed him, softly, just a gentle brushing of lips, to reassure both of them that it was real.

“Go on,” Harry prompted after a moment. Draco sighed and, looking at the ceiling again, began to tell Harry about his vision.

“It was here, in this house. You were digging through a pile of junk in some little cubby hole, I'm not sure where, I've never seen it. It was rank and cluttered, just horrible. But finally, you pulled out this locket, a gold locket with a snake on the front. It was a like a celebration then, we were all so very happy. You handed it to me, and that's what woke me up. It was heavy and it burnt my skin, I think it was the pain that shocked me out of it.”

Harry sat up properly. “Here, in this house?”

“Yes,” Draco said, sitting up as well. “Harry, what is it? It's not a Horcrux is it? You think?”

“I do,” Harry said. “In fact, I know. It's Slytherin's locket, the one we have a fake of.”

“Wow, that's...that's great Harry, isn't it?” Draco was worried, Harry looked almost manic.

“Yes, it's amazing,” he pulled Draco close and gave him a sloppy kiss, before pulling back and jumping out of bed.

“Where are you going?” Draco exclaimed, already feeling cold in the bed.

“I have to go find it, it's important.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Not now you don't. Ron and Hermione were with us, are you going to wake them up in the middle of the night? You don't even know where we found it.”

“I have a good idea,” Harry said. “Kreacher was collecting up all kinds of things that we were throwing away, I'm pretty sure he'll have hidden it all in his nest, or whatever. None of us would ever go there if we could avoid it.”

“It's still the middle of the night, Harry. Besides, it's been there for ages, it's not about to go walking away tonight, is it? Lets just wait for the morning and we'll get Ron and Hermione's help, alright?”

Draco tried out his best puppy dog eyes. They had never worked on his parents, his teachers, guards or Tom Riddle. But they worked on Harry. Draco had to keep from grinning when Harry sighed and got under the duvet again.

“Fine, you're right,” he said, shuffling close to Draco and pulling him into his arms once more. “And you did look rather pathetic just then...I can't just leave you here alone, can I?”

Draco scowled at Harry's amused grin. “No, you can't. And I am not pathetic Potter, so bite your tongue.”

But Harry just smiled wider. “Oh no, of course you're not,” he said cheekily. “So sorry, my mistake.”

Draco pinched his nipple, laughing when Harry jumped.

“If you're done insulting me, I'd like to go back to sleep now,” Draco said, huffing but snuggling closer into Harry's chest. “All this dreaming and talking has worn me out.”

“I bet,” Harry said. He was feeling drowsy again too, all warm and content with Draco in his arms. He was getting used to this, no...he was used to it. As Draco settled back into sleep, Harry thought about how far they'd come in a few short weeks.

Sex wasn't something he'd spent much time thinking about, he'd always been too busy and distracted, but he'd since his short and disastrous fling with Cho Chang, he'd questioned what he really liked and wanted. That's when he'd figured out he was gay, something that he'd kept pretty quiet since then. Only Ron and Hermione knew for sure, though Harry was certain that Dumbledore knew as well. On the other hand, he wondered about the old man as well; his robes were far too colorful.

Then everything had changed. Walking into Draco's room and seeing him there, bare chested and sleep mussed, had fired Harry's libido into full gear. He'd never felt the kind of desperate passion for anyone that he had for Draco but it was tempered by a tenderness that was equally surprising. The emotions Draco stirred in him, just by being there, were shocking.

As a bonus, Harry's connection to Riddle had been all but cut off since he'd been sleeping with Draco. As if Draco was blocking it somehow. Harry had no idea how to explain it, but he certainly wasn't complaining. He'd much rather have Draco in his bed than Riddle in his head.

Draco mumbled and draped a leg over Harry's hip, snuggling even closer. Harry grinned widely, love filling up his chest, leaving him fully satisfied, perhaps for the first time ever.

*

 **  
_June 1995_   
**

Draco's fifteenth birthday came and went with as much fanfare as his thirteenth and fourteenth. That is to say, with none. His parents were allowed a visit, and they enjoyed a quiet dinner together, talking about many things but nothing of importance. Nothing involving how long Draco had been there, how long he would be, or just why he was still a prisoner.

Oh, his parents and Riddle did not use such a term; Riddle still insisted on calling Draco his 'guest' but Draco was not fooled. He was a prisoner.

His parents were allowed to bring him gifts, but only things like pre-approved books and sweets. Occasionally he'd be given a small magical object, but nothing with any real usefulness. Draco had moved past bored by the end of his first month there and as such he had thrown himself into studying with a ferocity that had shocked his parents. He had been a mediocre student during his childhood and his short time at Durmstrang but while he was there, the distractions had been many and here... here there was nothing.

His parents visited on a regular basis, together or separately, and Draco had to endure nightly dinners in the presence of Tom Riddle. He was unfailingly patient with Draco, but completely avoided any questions that Draco had. The only answer he would give as to why Draco was being kept there was that he was in danger from the world at large, and only Riddle had the security and power to keep him safe. What he needed protecting from was unknown, and the power that he had been purported to have that necessitated such protection was equally as unknown. Draco was frustrated with the lack of information, but there was no way out, that he could see.

Guards were posted outside his room at all hours, he had checked. In fact, he had attempted to leave so many times that Riddle had began to lock the door as well as posting the guards. That was before Draco's thirteenth birthday, and that was when he had realized that he truly was a prisoner. That was when the hope that his parents would get him out of there or that he'd be allowed to go back to Durmstrang began to fade.

By his fourteenth birthday, that hope was completely gone.

The day after his fifteenth birthday, Riddle collected him for a walk on the grounds, as was their custom. They walked several times a week, whenever Riddle was free. He was occupied with some kind of campaign but, as with everything else, Draco was kept out of the loop. He had determined it must be some kind of politics, considering Riddle's manner and his belief in pureblood superiority above all, something which his father agreed heartily.

Draco wasn't so sure, but he kept this idea to himself. It seemed to him that, if magical culture was going to survive into the future, they needed all the magical beings they could get. Of course, the mudbloods were inferior, but that didn't mean they should be killed or shunned. Draco thought they should use them, teach them magical culture and take advantage of their skills.

He never said anything on the subject of course, save what Riddle and his father had told him he should believe.

In all, his life was quiet, boring and lonely. He hadn't talked to anyone his own age in three years, and he missed living at home with his parents. As time went on, he was becoming increasingly concerned about Riddle's plans for him. Honestly, he had no clue what Riddles' plans for him were, but it was clear he was being kept for a reason beyond his protection.

What made it all more confusing were the dreams. He'd been dreaming of the same boy all his life, but they had become more and more clear in the past year. He was a handsome boy, with wild hair and spectacles. He had the brightest, greenest eyes Draco had ever seen. Sometimes when he thought about those eyes for too long, he got shivers of premonition that left him pondering what he was really doing here.

He never mentioned the dreams to anyone. The few times he'd thought about it, he'd begun feeling uneasy, as if his body itself was warning him against it. One time, he had almost forced himself to do it, to tell Riddle about the boy in his dreams, but instead he had found himself in the loo, head down over the toilet and vomiting out the fine dinner he'd just eaten.

It had not been a pleasant evening, and he had no wish to repeat it.

And so his life went on, as tedious and unending as ever, the only consolation was his studies. He was encouraged in his desire to learn more, so he took advantage of it. Perhaps he would never escape from this place but, if he did, at least he would be well educated. For what, he did not know, but it kept him going.

*

 **  
_June 1997_   
**

The next morning they told Ron and Hermione right away, receiving differing reactions. Ron was sceptical. Though he'd come a long way he was still scornful of Draco and his position in Harry's life, but he mostly kept it to himself since the confrontation in the kitchen the day after Draco had arrived. 

Hermione, on the other hand, could not stop berating herself for not having figured it out sooner, which was ridiculous when one considered that, at the time, they'd had no idea that the locket even existed.

“So all we need to do is dig through the crap in Kreacher's nest,” Harry said, beaming at his friends.

“That's all?” Ron scoffed. “I say we make Draco do it, it was his vision, after all.”

“Don't be ridiculous, Ron,” Hermione scolded. “Draco's already done his part.”

“I'll do the digging, it's no big deal, really. Can't be any worse than cleaning up after Dudley, can it?” Harry said, trying to lighten the mood.

Hermione and Ron shared a look, but Draco was confused.

“Dudley who?” he asked Harry.

“My cousin, but he's not important right now,” Harry waved it away. “With any luck I'll never have to see him again.”

“Well, let's get going then,” Hermione said, standing up from the kitchen table. “The sooner it's done, the sooner we can send for Dumbledore and get the thing destroyed.”

The other three stood and followed her.

“I'm still not convinced it's actually there,” Ron said derisively. “I can't believe it's been there, all this time.”

“We'll find out soon enough,” Harry said, giving Ron a stern look. He was getting tired of all the little jabs at Draco from Ron, but he knew that, despite a healthy stubborn streak, Ron would come around. 

Harry gave Draco a reassuring grin before tugging open the door to Kreacher's nest. He was immediately struck by the musty chaos of it. A pile of rolled up rags sat in the middle of heaping piles of junk...old Black heirlooms that had fallen into decay, portraits, boxes containing various unknown items. It was all piled around haphazardly, and Harry sighed at the thought of digging through it all. And he would have to do the digging, as the space was barely enough to permit one person inside it, and certainly not two.

Harry took a deep breath and went in. There was nothing for it.

*

Finding the Horcrux was quite a victory, considering how long it had been since they had uncovered the last one. Dumbledore was particularly pleased, praising and congratulating Draco for enabling the discovery. That evening there was an Order meeting in the house, though it did not last very long. Harry, Draco, Ron and Hermione sat in on it, but had little to contribute. Dumbledore had asked them to keep the manner of Draco's arrival and his relationship with Harry under wraps for the time being. He told the other Order members simply that Draco was a refugee of the war, and he would be helping the others with their vital research. It was the truth, if only a part of it.

The atmosphere was jubilant, so most of the others stayed after the meeting for drinks and talk. They played games, told jokes and drank themselves dizzy until the wee hours of the morning. Harry finally pulled Draco up to their room when he could no longer hide his yawns and drooping eyes. It was almost 2am and Harry was tired too.

So they washed up, brushed the treats of the evening off their teeth and tumbled into their bed, laughing with the pure bliss of just being together. When Draco leaned over Harry and kissed him softly, the mood became much more serious. They stared into each others eyes, saying everything with one heated look.

Harry threaded his fingers through the soft hairs at the nape of Draco's neck, thrilled that he was allowed to, that he was allowed to touch and kiss this beautiful creature whenever he wished. It was a gift he could never have imagined until Draco came into his life. He tugged Draco down again, sucking gently on his bottom lip before pushing his tongue past Draco's lips into his hot mouth. Draco moaned and returned the kiss, sinking down until he was lying on top of Harry fully.

It was Harry's turn to groan this time, as his aroused cock came into contact with Draco's. He rubbed, frotting upward into Draco's body as the pleasure built. Draco pushed back into him, moaning and panting as Harry continued to lick at his mouth. They were both becoming desperate now, the pressure and friction was bringing them both to the peak of pleasure that they were chasing.

“Draco, I want, I...” Harry gasped , burying his face into Draco's neck, letting his lips go where they would, nipping and sucking the blood to the surface as he went.

“I know,” Draco replied, pulling in a few desperate breaths. He pushed down in to Harry even harder now, as the pleasure built further. “I want you too Harry, so much.”

“Yeah,” Harry moved his hands down, gripping Draco's hips to gain more pressure. It wasn't enough, so he wrapped his hands around Draco's buttocks, clenching them and pulling until he was able to build up a proper rhythm.

“Oh Harry, that's...oh yeah,” Draco laid his head on Harry's shoulder, pushing harder still until he came more spectacularly than he ever had before. Harry felt the shudders of Draco's body as it exploded in pleasure, and the warm wetness of Draco's climax seeping through their pyjamas, something that would be uncomfortable in other circumstances, was enough to push him over the edge as well.

He grunted loudly as his climax ripped through him. He shuddered once more in the aftermath, loosening his grip on Draco's arse and wrapping his arms around Draco's waist instead, keeping him close. But Draco wasn't going anywhere. He was boneless atop Harry's equally boneless form, panting softly into Harry's neck. Harry could almost feel the smile against his skin.

“Harry, that was...” He stopped, at a loss of words to describe the feeling.

“Amazing?” Harry completed the sentence.

“Yeah, that,” Draco pulled back to look Harry in the eyes, crossing his arms over Harry's chest and resting his chin on them. “When I came here, I never expected anything like this but, I...want more.”

“Me too,” Harry said, smiling brightly at Draco while running his hands up and down Draco's back.

“I didn't even know this was possible, two boys together. But, I've never imagined feeling this way. Have you?”

Harry chuckled, leaning in to kiss Draco's lips. “I have. I realized a while ago that I was attracted to other boys. But I've never wanted anyone the way I want you. I've never felt this way before.”

“Good,” Draco said. “Because, bond or not, I'm going to keep you.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” Harry said, suddenly serious. “I don't care about the prophecy. I'm never letting you go.” Draco smiled at him and Harry smiled back, once again saying everything else through their eyes, their lips meeting again.

“Well,” Harry said, once they had surfaced again. “We'd better get cleaned up.” They laughed, pulling their sticky bodies apart and getting out of bed again.

*

As Harry and Draco continued to get closer, one was rarely seen without the other. Harry was beginning to wonder just how he had managed before he met Draco. Far from being stifling, having him there was like a breath of fresh air, combined with an enormous kick to his libido. They tried to be discreet about the new path their relationship had taken, but they were finding it difficult to keep their hands off each other. If they were alone, their research quickly descended into heated snogging sessions, sometimes going so far that they needed to separate to cool down, or retreat to their room.

While Harry was revelling in the excitement of having a boyfriend, Draco was marvelling that such a thing was possible. He was sure that everyone who frequented the house knew how their relationship had changed, and they all seemed to be fine with it. Draco wasn't so sure about it, but he was sure about Harry. The thought of leaving him was repugnant. He preferred to be as close as possible, all the time and fortunately Harry felt the same way.

As their intimacy grew so did the vividness of Draco's visions. He'd dreamed several times of what he was coming to believe was the final confrontation. Harry's face was grim and set, his eyes glittering with anger and determination. But the power swirling around him was immense, much more than Harry possessed, and Draco found he could not decipher it. In the vision he was standing behind Harry, holding his hand tightly. At first Draco thought he was hiding behind Harry, clinging for life, but the more he had the vision, the more he realized that he was supporting Harry, encouraging him through presence and touch.

He also had another vision of Harry finding a Horcrux. It was a tiara, lost in a room filled with broken and cluttered junk, piled on top of more junk. It confused Draco, so much that he hardly knew how to describe it, but Harry seemed to know exactly what he was talking about. He had insisted on contacting Dumbledore as soon as they woke, and they were currently waiting in the kitchen for his response.

Draco sat at the table, watching Harry pace back and forth across the floor. He was sipping his tea, while Harry's cup sat cold and untouched. Draco sighed. Seeing Harry this worked up was painful, there was nothing they could do until Dumbledore got back to them, and, after years in the room, Draco knew that the tiara was not in danger of getting lost. Indeed, his vision showed him its exact location. That didn't worry him. Harry's mood did.

“Harry,” he said, when he could stand it no longer.

“Mmm,” Harry said, not stopping in his pacing.

“Why don't you come over here, so I can distract you?” Draco said slyly, getting up from the bench to lean against the table.

“I'm fine,” Harry said, giving Draco a quick smile. “He should be here anytime now, it won't be long.”

“You aren't fine, you're a basket case. Now come over here and let me relax you,” Draco said, attempting a pose that he hoped was properly seductive.

It seemed to work, as Harry took a long second glance, his eyes drinking Draco in from head to toe. Draco smirked. Harry was rather predictable.

Also, stubborn. He continued his path once he was able to tear his eyes away from Draco's body.

Draco sighed, and tried again. “Harry, I want to snog the nervousness out of you, so get your fine arse over here, or I will come to you.” That stopped Harry in his tracks. He turned to Draco with a sly smile, letting his eyes wander once more.

“Oh, so that's how it is, eh?” Harry moved toward Draco like a predator, and Draco shivered. Harry never failed to affect him, to set him on the edge of desire with just a look.

“I'm more concerned about your fine arse,” Harry continued. He moved in front of Draco, wrapping his arms around Draco's slender waist, cupping his hands over said arse.

“That's more like it,” Draco said, reaching up to thread his fingers through Harry's hair. He loved Harry's hair, second only to his eyes. It was wild and thick, it smelled wonderful and it was as untameable as Harry himself. Draco couldn't get enough of it, tugging on it when Harry sucked him, gripping it when they kissed, running his hands through it when they lay wrapped around each other in bed.

Harry leaned in and kissed him, pushing his tongue into Draco's mouth without hesitation. Draco loved the way Harry took charge of their lovemaking, his hands sure and firm as they brought reactions out of Draco's body that he'd never dreamed of.

Those hands were doing it now, stroking and clenching Draco's buttocks as Harry's lips sucked and licked a path down Draco's neck to his collarbone revealed by the open collar of his shirt. They had not had proper penetrative sex yet, something that Draco found himself wanting more and more. Hand jobs were lovely, frotting was always exciting and Draco loved blow jobs above all, both giving and receiving them, but the ache to feel Harry inside him, stretching him and filling him up, was becoming impossible to ignore. That was another thing he'd never imagined, but after discovering a sex manual in the library and smuggling it to a private place, he'd devoured it in one sitting and quickly become fascinated by the idea. He'd never been much interested in girls and now he knew why.

Draco moaned deeply, gripping Harry's shoulders, trying to pull him in closer, opening his legs to cradle Harry's lean hips. Harry quickly picked him up, propping Draco on the edge of the table, pushing closer to rub their cocks together. They were fast reaching the point of no return, when the fireplace flared a brilliant green and Professor Dumbledore stepped through gracefully.

Draco saw him first and pushed Harry back with all his strength, which was a shock to Harry as Draco had just been pulling him close with the same strength. Harry stumbled a bit, panting and looking at Draco in shock.

“Wha...” he began, but that was when he noticed that they were not alone. Draco had jumped off the table and gone back to his seat on the bench, hiding his erection under the table and his blush by burying his face in his hands.

Harry was left standing in front of the fireplace where Dumbledore stood with a raised eyebrow and a bemused grin.

“Professor you...you're here,” Harry stammered. Draco rolled his eyes. He loved Harry, he was brave and strong and determined and kind and funny but...still a bit of a twat.

“As you see,” Dumbledore said, his amusement plain in his voice. “I see I was interrupting, should I return later?”

“No!” Harry said, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. “We uh...we were just passing the time, no need to uh...would you like some tea?” Changing the subject was the quickest way to moving past this whole mess. Draco approved.

“No thank you Harry, I'd rather we just get to the subject at hand,” he sat on the bench across from Draco. “Your message did seem rather urgent. What can I do for you, boys?”

Harry glanced at Draco, moving around to sit beside him. “Draco had another vision.”

“Another Horcrux?” Dumbledore leaned forward on the table, intrigued.

“We believe so,” Harry replied. “He saw the Room of Hidden Things at Hogwarts, the most vivid thing being the bust of a lady with a tiara on her head. I've seen it, I remember it clearly, and I'm sure that's Ravenclaw's diadem.”

“I believe you may be right. That particular room is filled with such a wide variety of valuables and cast offs, I do not hesitate to believe it,” Dumbledore smiled at Draco. “And Mr. Malfoy's visions have never been wrong. I will see to it,” he stood to leave but Draco stopped him.

“Sir, in the vision, it's Harry I see recovering the tiara,” he said firmly. “Shouldn't he be the one to get it?”

“Well, I don't really see the harm,” Dumbledore said, practically twinkling at them. “In fact, why don't you make a day of it? School is out and the castle is quite empty. Though there is still much work to be done, that part of the castle is quite safe. Harry, perhaps you'd like to show Draco around the grounds, and we can share lunch after you are finished.”

Harry beamed. “That's a fantastic idea Professor, thank you,” Harry smiled at Draco, taking his hand and squeezing with excitement. “What do you think, would you like to see it?”

“I'd love to,” Draco said, returning Harry's smile. “My parents both went to Hogwarts, and I've heard so much about it.”

“Excellent, then it's settled. I need to get back to the school, lots to do, you know, but you two can come along when you are ready.” He stood and dusted himself off.

“We're ready now, sir,” Harry said, but Dumbledore merely waved it off.

“No, I am quite sure you were in the middle of something when I arrived. Feel free to finish up, I'll be waiting for you,” And, with a wink at each boy, he was off into the flames and gone.

They stared at each other for a few moments, both of them blushing. Harry coughed to cover his nervousness, then gave Draco a weak smile.

“He ah...he's just kidding. We'd better go.”

“Are you sure?” Draco asked. “I, uh...not that I'm much in the mood anymore.” He grimaced. It was bad enough that Dumbledore had walked in on them frotting against each other like, well, like teenage boys, but the idea that he was waiting for them to finish, knowing exactly what they were doing? It was too much for either of them.

“No, I'm not either, and that's something I never thought I'd say to you.”

“Maybe when we get back, we can,” Draco waved a hand between the two of them.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Harry rubbed the back of his neck, sighing.

“Should we leave a note for Hermione?” Draco asked, and Harry frowned at how Draco specifically didn't mention Ron. Things were better between them, but still not all that good, but they had settled into a truce. Neither of them acknowledged the other, in word or deed, and finally a sense of peace had settled over the house. Harry was grateful but frustrated all at once.

Harry wrote a quick note, telling Hermione, who was at the Burrow with Ron, where they'd gone and why. Then he joined Draco in front of the fireplace, leaning in to give him a tender kiss before throwing the Floo powder into the flames and calling out their destination.

“Well boys, that was quick,” Dumbledore said when they arrived.

“We didn't, uh...we,” Harry stammered, not knowing what he should say. He cleared his throat instead. “We'll just head to the Room of Requirement then,” he took Draco's hand and tugged him toward the door.

Draco was amazed as they made their way through the castle. The sheer volume of magical portraits and curiosities thrilled him. He told Harry that Durmstrang had been quite stark, it was all business there, compared to Hogwarts where the comfort and interests of the students were more valued. When they arrived at the Room of Requirement, Harry paced in front of the door, bringing up the door for the Room of Hidden Things. He opened the door, stepping aside to let Draco enter the room first.

“Wow!” Draco exclaimed. The room was as messy and cluttered as Harry remembered. He knew where the bust with the diadem was at least, it would help.

“This is amazing, Harry,” Draco tugged him further into the room, letting the door close behind him.

“I know. I discovered this room during my fifth year here,” Harry looked around, trying to see it all again for the first time.

"Why is the door hidden? To keep everything safe?”

Harry chuckled. “No, actually, this is the Room of Hidden Things, but the actual space is called the Room of Requirement. There's no door because it changes depending on the requirements of the person who is trying to enter it.”

“So, it changes, to whatever you want?” Draco looked at Harry with eyes wide with awe.

“Yep,” Harry grinned at him, pulling him further into the room, toward the cabinet with the bust atop it. “You walk in front of the door three times, thinking hard about what you need and the room provides it for you. We've used this room for all kinds of things over the years, it's really useful. And if you don't want anyone to come in, the room hides the door.”

“What a stunning piece of magic. This must take an extraordinary amount of power to maintain. Does Dumbledore keep it running, or does it have a well of power to draw on? What about the spells, are they self perpetuating, or do they need to be renewed?”

Harry laughed. Draco's thirst for knowledge was as great as Hermione's, but far less annoying to him.

“I'm not sure, Draco, you'll have to ask Dumbledore. I'm pretty sure the spells are self contained, but I have no idea about the power source.”

“I'll do that. I'd love to study this place, I'm sure it would keep me busy for years and I'd only scratch the surface.” Draco was gazing in wonder at the room, reaching out to touch some things as they passed.

“I'm sure you'll be allowed, but you'll have to talk to Dumbledore about that as well.” Harry guided Draco between the stacks, keeping his eyes peeled for the cabinet.

“So, if this room can be anything we require...perhaps we should test it out after we find the diadem.” Draco moved closer to Harry looking up at him through thick blonde lashes.

Harry swallowed. His arousal from earlier was making itself known again. “Test it how?” he asked, licking his lips as Draco pouted. That bottom lip was always so very tempting.

“Do I need to spell it out for you Harry? I'm sure this level of magic could conjure up a very comfortable bed, and we could be very, very private.” Draco pulled Harry to a stop, turning him so they were facing each other and pressed their bodies together. Harry could feel that his arousal wasn't the only one that was renewed.

“I'm sure it could,” Harry couldn't resist wrapping his arms around Draco and pulling him closer. “But Dumbledore is still waiting for us.”

“To bring him the diadem, yes, but then we'll have time to tour the castle, remember? Why not stop off here again before we continue on?” Draco pushed his groin harder against Harry's, opening his lips in and invitation that Harry could not resist. He leaned down and captured Draco's lips, opening them with his tongue, sweeping them both up in a passionate kiss full of promise.

Draco pulled back before Harry was ready for it to end, and he moaned his displeasure. But Draco pushed him away.

“Draco,” Harry whined, reaching for his escaping boyfriend. “I thought you wanted to.”

“I do,” Draco said. “Very much. But I'd rather do it when the old man isn't waiting, wouldn't you?” He raised an eyebrow at Harry, who sighed.

“No, you're right, we'd better get this done first. Then, we can take our time.” He leered at Draco who laughed.

“Nice leer, Potter. Now get your arse in gear and let's find it.”

Harry wasted no time in locating the diadem and accioing it down from its perch. They took it to Dumbledore who praised them both before taking it to dispose of, leaving the boys free to explore the castle.

“Though I do hope you'll take lunch with me, when you're done," Dumbledore declared, twinkling at the two of them so much that neither was convinced he didn't know precisely what they intended to do.

They agreed, before scurrying out of the office and back to the room.

“Let me try,” Draco said, as Harry went to walk in front of the door.

“Have at it,” Harry replied, standing back. Draco screwed up his face in confrontation, and paced three times in front of the wall. A door shimmered into being, a simple door of rich oak, with a shiny silver handle.

“You first, it's your room,” Harry encouraged Draco when he simply stood in front of it for a few moments.

“I can't believe it actually worked,” Draco said in awe.

“You won't know for sure until you open the door,” Harry said, gesturing to it.

Draco looked at him nervously, before stepping forward and pulling the door open. He took a step inside, gasping at what he saw. Harry peeked over his shoulder, also impressed.

Draco had created a luxurious room in blue and silver. There was a large, comfortable looking bed piled high with pale pillows, a soft looking leather couch in front of a cozy fire, and a sideboard with drinks and snacks.

“Wow, Draco,” Harry said, nudging him forward. “Good job.”

“Thanks,” Draco said as they entered. Harry took his hand and led him to the couch, sitting down and pulling Draco with him. Once they were settled, they wasted no time with small talk, and got right down to the snogging. Draco's arms wrapped around Harry's waist and shoulders while Harry's hands threaded through his hair.

Their mouths parted and met, tongues dancing with each other, thrusting and withdrawing until both boys had to pull back, panting to regain their breath. They didn't let lack of oxygen stop them though, Harry's hands moved to Draco's chest and were busy undoing his buttons, even as Draco lay back on the couch, tugging so that Harry came down with him.

He pulled Harry's shirt off, not protesting when Harry pinned his hands above his head, licking a path down Draco's neck and chest before sucking one nipple into his mouth. Draco gasped, using his legs to push his hips up into Harry's. The friction of their cocks through their trousers only heightened the sensations.

Harry kept sucking until there was a bright red hickey surrounding Draco's nipple. Draco shuddered when he blew on it, the shakes reverberating through his whole body.

“Harry, please,” Draco begged, though he was unsure of what he was asking for, but Harry just kept on, moving to the other side to suck a matching mark on Draco's other nipple.

Harry pulled back and grinned proudly, letting go of Draco's hands to flick the nipple he'd just sensitized with his mouth, unable to stop from gasping in pain when Draco's free hand gripped his hair so tight it pulled.

“Merlin, Harry,” Draco panted as their eyes met, lust and love filling the room as they stared into each other.

“What do you want?” Harry asked leaning down to suck Draco's bottom lip in to his mouth, rubbing his tongue across the plump flesh before letting it go again.

“I, uh...” Draco was distracted once more as Harry nuzzled his way across Draco's neck sucking his earlobe this time, until Draco tugged his head back with the hand still entangled in his hair.

“Since you're so, uhhn, so good at it, why don't you keep that up?” he said, arching his body up into Harry's.

“Keep what up?” Harry asked with a low voice, pushing his hips down into Draco's, _hard_. “This?”

“Shite, that's...” Draco moaned, pulling Harry's head down again for another kiss before breaking away, panting. “Suck me, Harry,” he demanded, shivering at Harry's predatory grin.

“Oh, I'd love to,” Harry replied, taking his mouth in another kiss before releasing his other hand and licking his way down Draco's torso. He unfastened Draco's trousers and tugged them down, along with his pants, catching Draco's bobbing cock on his chin when it was freed.

He sucked it into his mouth immediately, letting his lips play around the sensitive head, pushing Draco's foreskin back with his tongue before dropping his head down, not stopping until his nose was brushing the crisp blonde hair at its base.

It didn't last long, though, Harry gagged on the thick length, pulling off and coughing, gasping for air.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, his eyes watering a bit.

“That's alright, it felt amazing,” Draco replied, running his hands through Harry's hair in a comforting motion.

“I'll just have to try and do better, then,” Harry said, leaning down again to lick the drop of moisture at the head, licking it clean before dropping down again, taking more. He worked hard at it, not that it was difficult. The taste of Draco was intoxicating, his cock felt heavy and right in Harry's mouth. By the time he was able to take it all in again, Draco was gasping and tugging his hair in desperation.

“Harry, I'm gonna come,” he choked out, about two seconds before he did, spurting his release down Harry's throat and over his lips as Harry pulled back, coughing on the fluid filling his mouth suddenly. He licked Draco's cock and his lips clean as Draco shuddered out the remnants of his climax, his hands clenching sporadically in Harry's hair.

“I, I don't...I've never,” Draco took a deep breath, letting go of Harry's hair and cupping his cheeks. “I've never imagined it could be like this,” he said, stroking Harry's cheek.

Harry climbed back up, laying atop him again. “Neither have I. I've only kissed one girl, and I'd never had the chance to kiss a boy, so it's new to me too.” Harry smiled, kissing Draco softly. “It must be you Draco, you're amazing.”

“You're mad,” Draco said, smiling fondly at Harry.

“Mad for you,” Harry replied. “Now, are you gonna help me out with this, or what?” he asked, rotating his hips so that his needy cock rubbed against Draco's hipbones.

“Switch places,” Draco said, sliding off the couch, fastening his clothes again while Harry laid down and undid his. He pushed his t-shirt up his chest and then pulled his cock out, shoving his pants and jeans down over his hips.

Draco didn't waste any time. Harry was intoxicating, Draco knew his taste well by now. It never failed to excite him, just the thought of Harry could leave him hard and desperate. He crawled in between Harry's legs, gripping his cock and stroking slowly until Harry whined in protest.

“Get on with it, would you?” Harry demanded, but Draco just chuckled.

“Patience is a virtue Harry,” Draco said, leaning down to Harry's cock.

“You can take your virtue and ooh...” Harry was silenced by Draco's tongue on his balls, licking them all over before dragging his tongue upwards to Harry's cock. He licked it like it was a lollipop, humming in delight as he sucked drops of precome off the tip.

“Draco, stop teasing,” Harry said, gripping the cushions tightly. “I won't last long,”

“So?” Draco asked, nonchalant. “You can come when you need to, Harry.” He winked up at his desperate boyfriend. Draco loved playing the tease. Harry always played along, giving in and begging with abandon.

“Please suck me Draco,” he said, pleading with his eyes and voice. “Please.”

“Hmm,” Draco said, holding Harry's cock upright and considering. “It's awfully big Harry, I don't know if I can get it all in.”

“I'm sure you can,” Harry snapped back, clenching his teeth. “It's not that big.”

“Why Harry, how can you talk about yourself like that?” Draco said as if scandalized. His mouth was hovering over Harry's twitching cock, his hot breath ghosting over the tip every time Draco spoke.

“Just get on with it, dammit!” Harry exclaimed, shooting daggers in Draco's direction with his eyes.

“Oh, alright,” Draco acted as if he was much put upon, no matter how much he loved and looked forward to it. Teasing Harry was too much fun. But Draco knew when it was time to give in, so he did, sucking Harry's cock down as far as he could go. He stroked the part that he couldn't reach with his hand, twisting it at the base ever as his tongue circled the tip.

Harry didn't last long at all. He'd been on edge far too long, and that coupled with his earlier disappointment had his climax rushing over him mere moments later. He filled Draco's mouth with his creamy release.

Draco was expecting it, so he managed to swallow it all down, licking and sucking any spare drops until Harry was shaking with the sensations and tugging Draco away.

“I was right,” Harry said as Draco sat back, licking his reddened lips. “You are amazing.” He smiled up at Draco, who beamed back. He tucked Harry in quickly, moving up again to snuggle into Harry's chest, his own filling with a sweet ache as Harry wrapped his arms around Draco's back.

They lay in silence for a few minutes, breathing together, hearts slowing to a regular pace as they held each other.

“I love you, Harry,” Draco said, turning to bury his head in Harry's neck.

Harry smiled, the part of his heart he hadn't known was aching loosened. “I love you, Draco,” he replied, holding Draco even tighter.

*

Ron and Hermione were home when they got back to Grimmauld Place late that afternoon. Harry and Draco had spent the morning in the Room of Requirement and touring the castle before taking lunch with Dumbledore. They spent the afternoon by the lake, swimming, chasing each other around as well as other less wholesome things that boys can get up to on a fine summer's day. It was as if they were suspended in time, alone in the world and free to enjoy themselves without the burdens and pressures that their lives had pressed on them.

Draco was gushing with excitement about Hogwarts, something Hermione was equally as eager to discuss. She immediately offered to lend her copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ , and launched in to a detailed summary that had Draco ecstatic but left Harry and Ron bored to tears. They volunteered to escape to the shops for some take out and promptly left, wondering if Hermione and Draco had even noticed they'd gone.

While they were waiting for their dinner, Ron coughed uncomfortably before finally asking Harry how things were going with Draco.

“You'd know if you spent more time around us, Ron,” Harry said patiently. Ron and Draco were still doing their 'ignore each other and it'll all go away' thing but Harry knew that Draco was only playing the game out of offence at Ron's reaction to his last name and the imagined crimes Draco had committed by default because he was a Malfoy.

“Yeah well, I'm trying,” Ron said, crossing his arms with a huff.

“You know,” Harry said seriously. He'd had enough of this game. “I don't think you are. You say so, but your behaviour shows the opposite.”

“Well, it's not like he's being all friendly with me,” Ron replied.

“He's offended and hurt at the way you've treated him,” Harry turned to face Ron, leaning against the wall of the restaurant. “He's done nothing, had no idea what his father and Riddle were really like, and you tore him apart because of something that happened five years ago, that had nothing at all to do with Draco. What were you expecting, Ron?”

“But Harry,” Ron began, but Harry cut him off.

“No, I've heard enough. If you make an effort to be nice to Draco, he'll do the same. We're the only people in this world he knows who he can be safe with and if I ever had to go somewhere without him, I'd like to know that my best friend would protect him, instead of shunning him and hanging him out to dry.”

“I would never betray him Harry, you have to know that,” Ron said, turning to face Harry as well.

“How am I supposed to know that?” Harry asked. “From what I've seen, you hate him. You resent his place in my life and his very existence. You have a major grudge against his father and whether or not it's justified, it tells me that you'd be willing to hurt the son to hurt the father.” They were silent for a moment, both of them pondering the truth of Harry's words.

“You really think I'd do that?” Ron's voice was quiet with hurt, but Harry realized there was no other way to get through to him.

“What else am I to think, Ron, considering the way you've treated him?” Harry stopped and took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to reconcile his best friend with his boyfriend. Ron had taken Ginny's death harder than any of his brothers, and letting go of grudges had always been difficult for him.

“Ron, I love him. He's a part of my life now, and will be forever if I have any say in it. You need to find a way to get past your hate for Lucius and realize that Draco is a different person. He's innocent Ron. In ways I can't even fathom, and I'm with him all the time.”

Harry didn't know what else to say. Ron was quiet and pensive, his face solemn as he thought about what Harry had said.

“I'm going to get the food,” Harry said, standing up straight. “I hope you can get over this, Ron, because you're important to me, but I'm not letting Draco get away, ever. I need you both in my life, so you're going to have to come up with a way to get along.” He turned and went inside, hoping he hadn't just fucked things up worse. On the other hand, it could hardly get worse.

The food was ready, so he paid for it and went back outside. Ron was standing where Harry had left him, staring at the stars, or what he could see of them. He nodded at Harry at they headed back, walking silently, there was nothing left to be said between them.

When they got back, Draco and Hermione were both absorbed in Hermione's copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ , chattering to each other about magical theory and power sources and what spells could be used where. Harry was relieved that, if Ron and Draco never got on, at least he had a friend in Hermione. She and Draco were very similar, something that made Harry smile and roll his eyes at the same time.

They unpacked the food, grabbing plates and cutlery, spreading them across the table. They sat opposite their other halves, who were just now surfacing from the tome.

Harry froze, fork halfway to his mouth when Ron spoke up.

“Draco, would you like some ginger beef?” he asked politely, holding out the container.

Draco looked from Harry to Ron to Hermione and back to Harry before grinning and reaching out for the box. “Thanks Ron, I'd like that,” he said, taking the carton.

“No problem,” Ron immediately tucked into his own food, ignoring Harry and Hermione's amazed looks. Draco grinned brightly at Harry, who smiled back, giving Draco a wink. Once they had all settled into eating, he nudged Ron with his shoulder in a gesture of thanks. Ron just grunted, eyes on his plate, but his ears turned the slightest bit pink. Harry smirked, and some of the weight that had been pressing him down lifted off. It was all going to be okay.

*

 **  
_June 1992_   
**

Harry gasped desperately for air, clutching his wounded arm to his side, trying to ignore the pain. Hot tears began to fall down his cheeks as he surveyed the chamber around him. The Basilisk was dead, thank Merlin, but it was still massive and terrifying, even if Harry knew it couldn't hurt him again. One stab was enough, he would certainly die down here.

The diary lay open in a pool of blood, battered and stabbed through with the Basilisk's broken tooth, but it had been too late.

Much too late.

Harry heaved in a deep, shuddering breath as he turned his head further. The pool of blood that was slowly staining the empty pages of the diary belonged to Ginny. Poor, innocent Ginny, who would never get the chance to grow out of her crush on Harry. He sucked in another breath, but it came out as a sob.

He dragged his aching body over to where she lay on the floor of the Chamber, her life force, her very essence stolen away at the whim of a madman. Harry felt the guilt and despair rise up in him as her brushed his fingers over her still warm cheek.

Riddle had solidified when the life had left her, and had fled down the tunnels for freedom, through a path that Harry wasn't aware of, a path he didn't care to find. Ginny was gone and he would soon join her, two cold, sorry corpses laid to rest forever beside the monster that had stalked them.

Harry sobbed again, wrapping his good arm tight around his body, trying to hold in his anguish, but it ripped through him anyway, and left him shaking with the enormity of it all.

But before he could brood more thoroughly on his sad state, he was distracted but the shrill call of a phoenix. He had forgotten about Fawkes, though the noble bird had done it's best to help him defeat Riddle and the Basilisk. One out of two was not good enough, not when Riddle was free to bring destruction once more while Ginny Weasley lay cooling on the floor.

Fawkes landed beside him and walked right up to him, nudging his injured arm with a soft head, until Harry let go of it. Fawkes shifted, laying his head over the oozing wound, dropping a few sparse tears onto it. Harry hissed and then gasped, but his mind was clearing already.

“Phoenix tears have the power to heal wounds,” he whispered, awestruck by the majestic bird that looked up at him again with beady black eyes. “Thank you Fawkes,” he said, stretching and twisting his arm to bring the circulation back.

Fawkes hopped over to Ginny, pressing his head against hers for a moment before turning back to Harry.

“I guess you can't fix her, can you?” he said sadly. Fawkes only trilled mournfully, dipping his head in what Harry thought might be grief.

“Yeah, me too,” Harry said with a sigh. “I was too late to save her, too slow. I failed her.” His breath hitched again, but he held back the sob this time. There would be time for mourning later, when he was free of this dank place. First he had to warn everyone else that Riddle was back, and tell her family that Ginny was dead.

Harry had never felt so empty, so much a failure. Nothing had gone right, and it was all his fault. The determination rose up in him stronger than ever before. He would stop Riddle, he would defeat him once and for all, so no more innocent girls would have to die for no reason. So that no one would have to die.

*

 **  
_July 1997_   
**

Draco shot upwards in bed, gasping for air and trying not to hyperventilate. The dreams were so vivid now, so very real, he could taste the sweat and feel the tang of magic in the air.

“Draco?” Harry asked sleepily, pulling himself up to curve around Draco's back, pulling him back down to the bed and spooning him, tucking their bodies close together. He was used to waking up when Draco had another vision, and Draco was becoming used to Harry's visions of Riddle. They were a messed up pair, each as twisted as the other, but somehow, it worked.

“It was terrifying,” Draco said, taking deep breaths to calm himself, trying to control his racing pulse. He had given up trying to keep from talking, Harry always dragged it out of him. “We were in a field, just outside of a copse of trees. There were people everywhere, men in the dark robes, and many members of the Order. I could see them all, but I didn't know who they were. I saw you, I was behind you, holding your hand while you hissed at a monstrous snake, bigger than I've ever seen. Bigger than a person.”

He shuddered with the memory, made all the more real with the knowledge that it would undoubtedly come to pass.

“Shh,” Harry soothed, kissing the back of his neck. “It's alright, you're safe now. Tell me what happened.”

“You, you were talking to the snake in Parseltongue, and suddenly it lunged for you, but you killed it. Just like that, I don't even think you used your wand. You just reached out a hand to stop it and it stopped. The magic was everywhere, filling the air, in my hair, on my tongue. I could feel the power thrumming between us where we were holding hands, and I could taste it on you, even though we weren't touching any other way.”

“Someone called your name then, and you looked up...your eyes were glowing, greener than I'd ever seen them, as if the magic was still coursing through you. It was palpable in the air, Harry. I've never imagined power like that.”

“It does sound terrifying,” Harry agreed. “Where do you think it came from?”

“I don't know,” Draco said, but I do know I couldn't have let go of you if I tried.”

“The feeling's mutual,” Harry said, tipping Draco's head back to give him a soft kiss.

“Have you ever seen a snake that big?” Draco asked.

“No, but Dumbledore says that Riddle has a snake as a servant of sorts, like a pet weapon. He thinks it's a Horcrux too.”

“Oh,” Draco said thoughtfully. “Well, you kill it without any trouble, so I guess that's a good thing.”

“Yeah, I think it is,” Harry said. “Let's talk about it more in the morning, then.”

“Yes,” Draco agreed. “I don't want to think about it just now.”

“Okay. But, since we're up, why don't we take advantage of it?” Harry said, sucking fiercely on the lobe of Draco's ear.

“You're insatiable,” Draco said, twisting to face Harry.

“Is that a problem?”

“Definitely not,” Draco said, pulling Harry close. They sank into each others embrace, giving each other love, comfort and passion and taking it back until they were both sated, then falling into a deep exhausted sleep.

*

Draco had different versions of the 'Harry kills the snake' vision, all of which impressed upon him the awesome power that Harry was using, and convincing him that Harry had not used his wand or uttered an incantation. They were both baffled by the vision; Harry realized that the snake was a Horcrux, as Dumbledore had suspected, but the source of all the power was shocking. He'd never been able to master wandless or nonverbal magic, so that was odd too.

He thought perhaps it was far enough in the future that he'd been able to learn those skills, but Draco insisted that it wasn't. He maintained that since he'd met Harry all the visions had taken on an imminence that he was certain of. Harry couldn't argue that everything had been moving very fast, but he couldn't reconcile that with his sudden power and skill.

They had reached an impasse, neither of them really knowing what to do, but as suddenly as they started, the visions stopped. Draco was able to enjoy almost a week of peaceful sleep before a new vision set in.

This one was easier to comprehend. Draco was alone this time, and while the vision unnerved him because of the lack of Harry, at least he could understand it. He was in the family vault, as if in a memory from his childhood shopping trips with his parents, but he was alone. He was looking through the stacks and shelves for something specific, searching without feeling much hope. Then suddenly there it was, a shiny gold cup, ornate and heavy looking but also quite beautiful.

Draco shot up in bed, as he always had after a vision, shaking with the intensity of it. He felt Harry's hand on his arm, tugging him back down. The constancy of Harry's presence was comforting to him. He took a deep breath, snuggling into Harry's warm body, burying his face between Harry's shoulder and neck to breath in the loveliness of a sleepy Harry.

“What was it tonight,” Harry mumbled. “The snake again?”

Draco shook his head, kissing Harry on the neck before pulling back a bit to speak. “No, it was just me this time, which was odd,” he began. He'd piqued Harry's interest, Harry pulled back as well until their eyes met.

“It was strange not seeing you, but the rest of it was pretty straightforward. I was in our vault, the Malfoy vault, though I've never been there alone before. I was looking for something, and we have a lot of valuables stored there, so it took a while, but then I saw it. This ornate cup, made of gold. I didn't get close enough to see if it had markings, but I was reaching for it when I woke up.”

Draco snuggled closer again, loving the way Harry's arms automatically held him tighter.

“It's the other Horcrux, isn't it? Hufflepuff's cup?”

“Yes, it must be. It's the only one left that we know of, except for the snake,” Harry's voice rumbled into Draco's ears through his chest.

“Good,” Draco replied. “We can get it and be done with it, I can't wait until this burden is lifted from you.”

“I thought you'd be more interested in regaining your freedom,” Harry said quietly.

Draco pulled back again, giving Harry an incredulous look. “But Harry, you've given me my freedom. Now it's yours that concerns me.”

“I may have rescued you from Riddle, but you're trapped here now, aren't you? It may be welcome but it's still just a cage, isn't it?”

“No, it's not,” Draco shook his head. “I thought you knew by now, Harry. I belong with you. What happens to you affects me. I know I could leave this place at any time if I wished, but I stay because I can't bear to be parted from you.”

“Won't you want to go home when this is all over?” Harry's voice was less uncertain, but Draco could still hear his doubts.

“Harry, I am home,” Draco smiled and leaned in to kiss him, silencing any further protests. They usually ended up touching, kissing and caressing each other after one or the other awoke, and Draco did not intend to make this an exception.

*

 **  
_December 1996_   
**

December of Draco's sixteenth year was setting in to be cold and very snowy. It was fitting, he thought, as it matched his mood perfectly. He hadn't seen his parents since May, and there was no sign of seeing them anytime soon. Riddle had been reticent on the subject wherever Draco asked, which he got to do very little of these days.

If Riddle was busy and why was something Draco did not care to speculate on. Their nightly dinners and frequent walks had all but gone, a walk was rare and dinner with Riddle happened maybe once a week. Draco found he could not bemoan the loss, despite his loneliness. The mood in the Manor had changed altogether. The air was tight with tension, the house was filled with loud footsteps and very little laughter, despite the increased frequency of meetings.

Draco was curled up on the window seat, staring out at the magically generated snowy landscape and trying not to cry like a little girl when he heard the door being unlocked. He turned to acknowledge his visitor, expecting Tom Riddle's cold face, so when his mother's grateful face appeared, he leapt from the seat and ran to embrace her.

He didn't care if it was undignified, he threw his arms around his mother and burst into tears. She drew him into the longest, tightest hug he'd ever had, and just held him while he cried all over her lovely robes. After a few moments, she pulled him back, looking into his face and wiping the tears away fro both of them with a handkerchief.

“Oh, my Draco,” she said happily. “How I've missed you.”

“I've missed you too Mum,” he replied, still sniffing away his tears.

“Well, come sit down then, we don't have a lot of time,” she took his hand and led him back to the window seat but instead of looking at the view, Draco had eyes only for his mother.

“Why haven't you come to visit me?” Draco asked, as soon as they were seated. “And where's Father? No one tells me anything around here, not that there's anyone to tell me.”

“I know, love, I know,” Narcissa said, dabbing gently at her nose. “The truth is not so good, I'm afraid.”

Now Draco was worried. He looked closely for the first time and noticed the signs of stress and sorrow that he had missed because he had been so thrilled to see her. Her face was gaunt, and he could see that she had lost some weight. It was not a good thing, as she had always been slight. There were circles of exhaustion under her eyes, and lines of worry on her forehead. Though her hair and makeup were as impeccable as ever, they could not fool Draco.

“What's wrong, Mother?” Draco fell back to a more formal manner of speaking, simply out of habit.

“This spring, your father was sent by Mr. Riddle to retrieve something of great import. Unfortunately, he was thwarted by a group from the Resistance, and he lost the item, and was captured by the Aurors.”

“Aurors!” Draco exclaimed. “He wasn't doing anything illegal, was he? What kind of campaign is Mr. Riddle running anyway?”

“While it wasn't technically illegal, the Aurors have seen fit to make an example of your father, so he has been sent to Azkaban.”

Draco stood up, infuriated. “Azkaban! What did he do Mother?”

“He was caught trespassing in the Department of Mysteries, Draco,” Narcissa replied, holding up a hand to halt Draco's further outburst. “Now Draco, be calm.”

Draco stared at his mother in amazement, but took a few breaths and rejoined her on the window seat.

“What he was sent to retrieve was a prophecy, and while his presence there was not permitted, he had no intentions of stealing the prophecy. He was there with the one the prophecy involved, as you know only the person or people named in the prophecy may pick them up.”

Draco nodded, he had learned all about prophecies during the last year's schooling. He thought it would be fascinating to have a prophecy about himself, but he knew that such a thing would never happen. What could he possibly accomplish locked up in Riddle Manor for years to come?

Narcissa continued. “Unfortunately, before he could gain the orb, he and those with him were ambushed. While their attackers did not get away unscathed, your father was incapacitated and captured.”

“Oh,” Draco said, thinking. It didn't sound so bad after all, more of a misunderstanding than anything. “He won't be in there long, will he?”

“I have our best solicitors working on nothing else,” Narcissa replied, taking Draco's hand in hers once more. “It has been a rather chaotic summer, and I regret not being allowed to visit. However, knowing you were safe from all this made it so much easier to focus on getting your father home. I will not go so long again between visits, and with any luck, your father will be out by the solstice.”

“But, that's months away!” Draco said. “Is there nothing else that can be done?”

“Not at present, love. We are doing everything we can. We are certain to prevail, though the Ministry is doing everything in it's power to keep your father incarcerated. Have no fear, my lovely boy. He will be free soon.”

“If you say so,” Draco said, sniffling again. The thought of his father locked away in a cold cell at Azkaban, with Dementors circling just outside was chilling to the extreme. He shivered in sympathy.

“It is time for me to go now love,” Narcissa stood up, pulling Draco with her. “There is not nearly enough time, but I will return in a few days with some treats for you.”

“Okay,” Draco said, suddenly feeling very small. She was right, it was not nearly enough time. Draco wanted forever, he wanted to go home with her. He blinked back more tears, determined to stay strong. Well, at least until she had left.

“I am so very sorry you are isolated like this Draco, but it really is for your good. I know you don't understand it yet, but the danger to you is very real.”

“What danger?” Draco asked, looking up into his mother's equally moist eyes. “I'm nothing special, I want to know why I have to stay here.”

“You may not feel special, but you are, very much so. You have to be strong, and all will be well.”

“I don't feel that strong Mother, I don't understand.” He was clinging to her hands now, desperate to know why he, of all people, must be locked away, like some kind of dangerous weapon, only to be taken out and used lest he become rusty.

“It will all be explained to you shortly, my love. You are approaching your seventeenth birthday, a time when great things will happen, and your power will reveal itself. All will be explained to you before then.” Narcissa smiled weakly at him, but Draco smiled back anyway, embracing her tightly one last time.

“I will be back soon Draco, I promise,” she said, kissing him gently on the forehead before opening the door and slipping out as silently as she had come in. Draco stood in his place by the door, unable to tear his eyes away until it was locked again. Tears fell unbidden and unnoticed down his face as he said, in a whisper, “Goodbye, Mum.”

*

 **  
_July 1997_   
**

Harry sent a message to Dumbledore as soon as they woke up, but when noon rolled around and they still hadn't heard from him, Harry suggested that they go themselves.

“After all, it's just Gringotts right? It's not dangerous,” Harry insisted, but Hermione did not agree.

“Actually it is, as you know very well, Harry Potter. We don't know who might be a Death Eater, and try to steal Draco back. Or tell Riddle where he is. Or...”

“Yes Hermione, we get your point,” Harry said, interrupting Hermione and dropping his head into his hands. “But we have to do something.”

“Why do we have to do it right now? It's likely the cup will still be there, even if we wait until tomorrow,” she insisted, but Draco shook his head.

“No, I don't think so,” Draco said. “I think we need to go today, as soon as possible.”

“But why?”

“Why do I know anything? I just know,” Draco insisted.

Hermione opened her mouth, but this time Ron stopped her. “I think we should do what Draco says, Hermione,” he said firmly.

The other three stared at Ron as if he had two heads. Yes, he'd been making a concerted to be more polite to Draco, but agreeing with him and siding against Hermione was a whole other matter.

“What?” Ron said, rolling his eyes. “I'm working through it. Besides, he's never been wrong before and I'm sure we all agree that he has some kind of special perception, so I think we should do as he says and go now.”

Hermione was stunned, but Harry and Draco were beaming.

“Thanks Ron,” Harry said. He tucked his arm around Draco's shoulder, kissing him on the cheek before turning back to the other two.

“Okay, this is what we'll do. We'll take the Knight Bus again, it's the easiest way that'll keep us all together, but as soon as we get off, before we go into the Leaky, Draco will put in the Invisibility Cloak. I know it's not terribly safe for me either, but it's nothing new if I'm spotted in Diagon Alley.”

The other three nodded, so he continued. “Right, so we'll go in to Gringotts, and find a dark space for Draco to take off the Cloak. Then I'll go to the vault with him, and you two can wait by the door, to warn us if anyone comes in that we should worry about.”

“How are we going to warn you?” Ron asked, but Hermione already had an answer to that.

“The coins we used for the DA should be perfect for that. I'll have one and Harry will have the other, I can activate it easily and there won't be any reason Harry will have to leave it behind before going to the vaults. It's just a coin."

“Perfect!” Harry exclaimed.

“Let's get going then, I feel like we need to do this now,” Draco said, tugging Harry up from the bench.

“Right, we'll get what we need and leave in five minutes.” They all ran upstairs to prepare, Draco sighing his relief. He'll be happy when this is all over.

The trip was uneventful, and so was getting into Gringotts. Draco didn't have a key, which caused the goblins some annoyance, but his blood and magic was enough to get him into the vault, a system the Malfoys had in place in the event they were unable to claim their keys, so without delay, Harry and Draco were in the cart, pulling up to the Malfoy family vault.

“You may not go in,” the goblin said, pointing at Harry. “There is no key, only a Malfoy may enter.”

“That's fine,” Harry said nonchalantly. The goblin's suspicious glare was unnerving, but he tried not to show it.

“I'll be fine,” Draco said, leaning over to kiss Harry softly before getting out of the cart.

“I know you will,” Harry replied, giving his hand a squeeze before letting him go. Draco moved to stand in front of the door, taking the blade that that the goblin provided and cutting a small slice into his palm. Harry had been warned it was necessary, but it was still hard to watch. Draco placed his palm on the lock, and the door shuddered and drew back, allowing Draco entrance.

He looked back at Harry over his shoulder before turning, taking a deep breath for courage, and entering the vault.

*

Draco was overcome with memories and emotions as he made his way through the vault to the storage area at the back. He remembered coming here many times with his parents, to withdraw some gold before they took him shopping, often to buy him anything he wanted. He had been a spoiled child, he knew that now. He wasn't ashamed to admit it; it didn't make up for the last five years of his life, that was certain. And while he knew that his parents had done nothing to save him from his fate at Riddle's hands, they were still his parents and he loved them. He missed them, more than he'd realized until he had stepped into his past.

He scoured the shelves, looking for that familiar cup. It had to be here somewhere, he was sure that he wasn't too late. It had been close, but it was here. As he scoured the shelves and found nothing like what he was seeking, he was began to doubt, despair creeping in to hamper him. Then he saw it. There, on a high shelf, tucked behind several dark magic tomes, the handle gleaming dully in the dim light of the vault.

He jumped up, just barely tall enough to reach, pushing the books aside until he was able to grasp the handle, pulling it down carefully. It was as heavy as it looked, thrumming with something that made Draco shiver, like a piece of ice had taken up residence in his spine.

He hadn't held it for long before it started to heat up, burning his hand as if it were on fire. He dropped it, yelping in pain, but the burn faded as soon as he let it go. He pondered that while nudging the thing with his shoe, why others could handle the Horcruxes while he could not. Perhaps it had something to do with the incomplete bond between himself and Riddle. He certainly had intent to harm them and, in his studies of various magical bonds, several included the added protection of imposing such a detriment. He was more than able to believe that Riddle had wound such an enchantment into the bond he intended to form with Draco, it was clearly in character for him to do so.

Draco pulled out the velvet bag Harry had given him, turning it inside out and using it as a glove to pick up the cup. They he flipped the bag around it and pulled the tie. He wouldn't have to handle it, and no one would see what it was he carried. He hurried back to the main area of the vault, stopping in front of the piles of galleons that were, at least partly, his. He doubted very much that he'd ever be able to get in again, so he decided to make a second withdrawal.

He filled his pockets with as many galleons as could comfortably fit, before taking one last look around. So many of his favorite childhood memories had begun in this place, and the feeling that he was leaving them behind irrevocably was overwhelming.

But Harry was waiting outside for him, and Draco would not give him up for anything in the world, certainly not a return to a childhood that was cut too short by evil's need for dominance. He turned and walked out, never looking back, even as he closed the door behind him.

Draco rejoined Harry in the cart, taking his hand and nodding at Harry's questioning look. Once the cart was in motion and the goblin's attention was diverted, he handed Harry the bag containing the cup. Harry took it gratefully, giving Draco a kiss of thanks. He let his tongue play over Draco's lips for a few minutes before pulling back. There was far too much at stake for them to lose concentration at such a crucial moment, as tempting as Draco's lips were.

The ride back was quick...it always did seem quicker on the way back, and before they knew it they were departing the cart and thanking the goblin. They held hands as they moved toward the large foyer of the bank, smiling at each other, pleased that their success seemed a certainty. Just as the foyer was coming into view, the coin in Harry's pocket burned hot, causing him to yelp and dig it out to shut it off.

He pushed Draco back against the wall of the corridor, hissing at him, “Put on the Cloak, quick.” Draco did, hanging on to the back of Harry's shirt to let Harry know that he was still there.

“Hang on and keep your eyes open,” Harry said, moving slowly toward the foyer. He spotted Ron and Hermione right away, following their glares across the room to where Lucius Malfoy was talking with a goblin. Draco noticed him at the same time, Harry heard him gasp and felt the resulting tug when Draco stopped moving.

“Come on, hurry,” Harry whispered, but Draco was frozen. Harry cursed under his breath. This was the worst possible time to run into the worst possible person. 'Well,' Harry supposed, 'Tom Riddle would be worse.'

“Well, Mr. Potter,” Lucius Malfoy's voice was smooth and dangerous, as always. Harry felt Draco move closer, pressing himself into Harry's back for some semblance of protection or comfort. “Imagine seeing you here...standing in one spot like an imbecile. I do believe your friends are doing likewise, across the room. I suggest you go join them, before Weasley loses control of himself so close to more gold than he'll ever see in his life.” The sneer on Lucius face was familiar, but Draco's sneer was never so calculating.

“Oh, sod off, Malfoy,” Harry snapped back, reaching his hand behind him a bit to touch Draco, as much reassurance as he was able to give. “Why don't you go crawling back to Riddle, and leave my friends alone.”

“Say what you will Potter, but you are the one who will be on the ground writhing by the time Riddle is done with you.” He flicked his cane in Harry's direction, a not so subtle threat. “Your smart mouth could use some discipline and a well cast Crucio would be just the thing. Beware, Potter, your days are numbered.”

“I could say the same to you, Malfoy. Perhaps if you come to your senses, Dumbledore can keep you out of Azkaban next time.”

Lucius just laughed. “You are very amusing. Your concern for my well being is rather sweet, but my master is in far more control than you realize. If I were you, I would flee for my life.”

Harry scoffed, crossing his arms in defiance. “Well, that's the difference between you and me, Malfoy. I'm not some snivelling Slytherin coward, content to grovel at the feet of a halfblood for scraps.” Lucius' only reaction was an imperious eyebrow lift, but Harry could feel Draco gripping him even tighter, his nails making themselves known, even through Harry's clothing and the Cloak. He also seemed to have regained his ability to move, and he pushed Harry imperceptibly toward the door.

“I will beat him Malfoy, wait and see.”

“If you say so Potter, now if you'll excuse me, I have much more pressing things to do than to trade amateur barbs with you.” With that he brushed by Harry, knocking into Draco a bit as well. He turned, narrowing his eyes at Harry.

“Just can't keep your eyes off me, can you Malfoy?” Harry sneered.

“Tedious boy,” Lucius muttered, turning and following the impatient goblin toward the carts. Harry headed toward Ron and Hermione. He could feel Draco following closely, both hands gripping Harry's clothes. He gestured for Ron and Hermione to head out ahead of them, opening the door and allowing them to get outside quicker.

They slipped into an alley near the bank, where Draco pulled the Cloak off. “That was close,” he panted. It was quite hot under the Cloak.

“That was very close. If he had caught you in the vault...” Harry trailed off, the horror of the near miss was all too real.

“He would have taken me back,” Draco said, his face pale as a sheet. Harry pulled him close, wrapping him in a tight embrace.

“I would never let him take you,” he said into Draco's neck. “I'd never let him take you away from me.” He pulled back, cupping Draco's chin with one hand, looking deep into his eyes.

“You're mine, do you understand? I'm not letting you go Draco. Not against your will, not ever. I'll protect you no matter what.” He held Draco's gaze until the other boy nodded shakily, blinking back tears.

“Okay,” Draco whispered, so quietly the others could barely hear him, blinking back tears.

“Good,” Harry said, then leaned in and kissed Draco soundly. This time he gave in to the desire to go deeper, opening Draco's mouth with his tongue and claiming it. Draco moaned and melted into it, wrapping his arms around Harry's neck in surrender.

They heard Ron cough, somewhere beside them, but they didn't end it until Hermione spoke up, loudly.

“Boys, we should really get that thing home, don't you think?” They pulled apart reluctantly, Draco's eyes were still a bit wet, but he looked more confident.

“Yeah, we should. Draco put the Cloak back on, just in case we run in to him again, or someone else is around.” Draco nodded agreement, wrapping the Cloak around himself again, and getting a good grip on Harry's shirt. They made their escape as quickly as possible, not stopping to board the Knight Bus until they were a few blocks away from the pub. They were not in the mood to take any chances, especially not with the Horcrux in their possession.

*

 **  
_August 1992_   
**

Draco was browsing the upper level of Flourish and Blott's, waiting for his father to return. He hadn't found any interesting books to buy however, what he really wanted was a 'Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle' comic, but his father would never go for that. Instead he was browsing the potions manuals, as he'd always loved potions. All the combinations and reactions intrigued him.

“Don't I know you?” a voice asked, and Draco turned to see who had spoken. In front of him was the boy he'd met last year while getting fitted for robes, his hair still disheveled, his clothes still far, far too big for him. Draco couldn't help but turn his lip up at the boy's appearance. He was a mess, but Draco had enjoyed talking with him last year, something about him was compelling. He reminded Draco of someone, but he couldn't place him.

“We met last year, I believe,” Draco replied. “I'm Draco.”

“I'm Harry,” the boy replied, grinning at him. “It's nice to see you again.”

“Yes,” Draco said, replacing the book he was looking at on the shelf.

“How did you like...sorry, what was the name of the school you go to?”

“Durmstrang,” Draco replied. “It's pretty amazing. Really cold, but it's challenging. How did you like Hogwarts?”

“Brilliant,” Harry replied, smiling widely. “And challenging pretty much sums it up.”

“That's good,” Draco said.

“It's too bad we don't go to the same school,” Harry said. “It's always nice to have another friend.” Something inside Draco tightened when he thought about being at Hogwarts with Harry, seeing him everyday and going to classes together. He'd made some friends at Durmstrang, but somehow he knew, if he'd gone to Hogwarts, he and Harry would have been great friends.

“True.”

“Draco,” a distinguished looking man called up the stairs. “It's time to go, this place is filling up with...vermin.”

“Coming, Father.” Draco smiled at Harry. “I have to go, it was nice to see you again.”

“You too,” Harry replied. “Have a good year.”

“Thanks.”

Draco went down the stairs, where his father was talking with a redheaded man surrounded by redheaded children. There were so many of them that their faces were a blur, but he did noticed that their clothes were covered in soot. The redheaded man did not look pleased, nor did his children. As Draco wondered why his father was talking to them, his father dropped a book into the little girl's cauldron and, with a sneer, strode past them. Draco followed him, barely glancing at the ginger brood. Father said that redheads were common, so clearly they were not worth his notice.

*

 **  
_July 1997_   
**

The Knight Bus was empty except for them but they still sat in the back of the top level, just in case. Draco was happy to be out of the Cloak again, and if he'd sat any closer to Harry, he'd be in his lap. Harry didn't mind though, he wrapped his arm around Draco, kissing him softly again.

Ron snorted and Hermione giggled, so they broke apart, blushing.

“You two have gotten pretty close, then?” Hermione asked. “I think it's sweet,” she gave them a big smile.

“We're men, it's not sweet,” Harry said, mildly affronted. But that just made Hermione giggle and Ron laugh again. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, though Draco's smile fled as he began to think about his father, which made him think about his mother.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked, rubbing Draco's shoulder.

“I don't know,” Draco said, laying his head on Harry's shoulder, accepting the comfort.

“I'm sorry you had to see that,” Harry said. “Your father and I don't get on very well.”

“So I heard,” Draco said grimly. He sighed deeply. “Until just then, I couldn't really believe that he could be like that. But I've thought about it a bit, and I've realized that there's a lot I don't know about him.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry said, encouraging him to say more.

“Yeah. When Riddle told me about the bond he was intending and a bit about the powers he wanted, I figured out that my father was complicit in the whole thing. He let Riddle take me, he didn't try to run, or rescue me or anything.”

Harry kept rubbing his shoulder, dropping a kiss onto Draco's head.

“I mean, I know he loves me, but either he's too much of a coward to stand up for me, or he cares more about Riddle than me. I don't know which is worse, honestly.” Draco sniffed a little, trying to keep the sudden tears from overflowing. He didn't want to cry at all, it was such a girly babyish thing to do, and he really didn't want to do it in front of Ron and Hermione. He did have some dignity.

“I'm sorry,” Harry said again, bringing Draco's face up with his free hand and kissing him softly.

“Thank you.” Draco kissed him back, then laid his head down again, letting Harry's presence soothe him. They spent the rest of the ride in silence, for which Draco was grateful.

When they got home, Dumbledore was waiting for them. They handed the cup right over, Harry was glad to not have the responsibility of it anymore, and he was thinking about Draco. When Dumbledore left, he took Draco's hand and led him up to their room, gathered up some clean clothes and ran him a bath.

“What's all this?” Draco asked, dipping his fingers into the warm, fragrant water.

“I thought you could use the relaxation. I'm going to have a shower upstairs, but I'll be in the room when you're done. Then we can have tea in bed and spend the afternoon together, just us.” Harry smiled at him encouragingly, running his arms before pulling his hands up and kissing his palms.

“It sounds lovely,” Draco said. “Thank you Harry.”

“You're welcome love,” Harry said, kissing him softly. “I'll be in the room when you're ready, okay?”

“Okay.”

Harry left him in the bathroom, dashing around to shower quickly, dress, and put together a tea tray for the two of them. He carried it up to the room and set it on the bedside table, making sure he had some clean cloths nearby. An afternoon spent in bed would inevitably turn to sex, and Harry wanted to be prepared. He had a feeling that Draco would be needing the connection after their near miss with Lucius earlier.

Once Harry was ready, he settled down on the bed to wait, but he didn't have to wait for long. Draco came in a few minutes later, looking fresh and well scrubbed, but his eyes were still sad. Harry longed to chase the melancholy away.

“Harry, you didn't have to do this,” Draco said as he crawled up onto the bed beside Harry.

“Yes, I did,” Harry replied. “You're feeling down about your dad, and I know you're missing your mum too, so I thought I could try and cheer you up. Or at least make you look less like someone kicked your puppy.”

Draco smiled at him, not the bright smile Harry loved best, but a smile nonetheless. “You're the best boyfriend ever,” Draco said, kissing Harry before reaching over and snagging a biscuit.

“You've had a few boyfriends then?” Harry teased, pulling a lock of Draco's hair. Draco swatted his hand away.

“Just the one, unfortunately,” Draco replied dryly, lucking the crumbs off his lips. Harry felt his cock filling already. Just having Draco in the bed with him was turning him on.

“Oh? You wanna trade me in for a newer model?” Harry grinned.

“Not yet,” Draco teased back. “I haven't even taken you for a test fly yet.” He grabbed another biscuit, mesmerizing Harry as he licked his lips, chewed, swallowed and licked his lips some more.

“Come here,” Harry said in a low voice, tugging Draco down with one hand on his neck. The other hand slipped under Draco's shirt, Harry loved the feel of his skin when it was soft from the bath. It was soft all the time, but this kind of soft was Harry's favorite.

Draco responded to the kiss immediately, moving to lay beside Harry and wrapping his arms around him and tugging until Harry rolled over on top of him. He loved the feeling of Harry on him, his weight bearing Draco down to the bed. It felt safe, secure, he was surrounded by Harry and nothing could take him away. After the isolation of the last few years, it was the most amazing thing Draco had ever felt. He wanted more.

They kept kissing, breaking apart now and then to suck on each others necks, both of them delving under clothing with questing hands. Soon they were both naked and hard, lying flush on their sides and just letting their hands explore as their tongues played, pushing to and fro, tasting and feeling their way around each others mouths.

Harry's hand soon found a firm grip around Draco's cock, pulling on it for a few moments before lining it up with his own. He tried to wank them together, but his hand wasn't quite big enough. Draco didn't mind, it still felt amazing. But he was reaching the height too soon, Harry was drawing his climax out before Draco was ready to let go, so he pulled back, breaking the kiss with a gasp and moving Harry's hand away.

“Draco?” Harry looked at him in confusion. Draco groaned and almost let him continue. Harry's pupils were blown, his lips red and wet, his cheeks heavy with the flush of arousal. He looked good enough to eat and oh, how Draco wanted to. But there was something else he wanted more.

“Harry, I want...if you want, I mean, you don't have to,” Draco struggled to find the words without sounding crude or needy.

“What is it, love?” Harry asked, letting his hand wander up Draco's back and arm.

“I...want you inside me,” Draco whispered so softly that Harry almost didn't hear him.

Harry's hand stopped moving. Had he heard it correctly? “You want, uh...you want me to...” He gestured, also unable to put it into words, but fortunately for him, Draco found some.

“Make love to me Harry,” he said simply.

“Umm, okay,” Harry said. “I don't really know what to do, I mean, I have an idea, but I've never...”

“I do,” Draco interrupted, pushing Harry back and leaning over him so he could dig into the drawer beside the bed. Harry let his hands wander over Draco's naked bum, squeezing and dipping between the cheeks, as he accustomed himself to the fact that he was going to be allowed to put his cock there, very soon. It was amazing, he could hardly believe that Draco would allow it.

Clearly Draco had no qualms about it, though. He pulled back, handing Harry a book and putting a tube of lotion in the bed beside him.

“What's this?” Harry asked, picking up the book and reading the title. “Oh,” he said, when he was done.

“Yeah,” Draco said, moving to sit cross legged by Harry's side. “I found it in the library a couple weeks ago and stashed it away. I thought it would be useful.”

Harry flipped through a few pages, unsure of where to start. Fortunately, Draco had thought of that too.

“Here, I've marked the page we need.” He flipped it open and gave it back to Harry, then sat back to let him read it. He wasn't very good at waiting, but somehow he survived until Harry was done, though he was vibrating with excitement.

Harry put the book down, and held up his hand, wiggling his fingers. “So I have to put...up there?”

“Yeah,” Draco said. “Is that okay?”

“I guess,” Harry looked doubtful. “Is it really going to feel good?”

“The book says so,” Draco replied. “And people wouldn't do it if it didn't, so...”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Harry said. “Alright well, how do you want to...” He made an awkward gesture.

“Umm, hands and knees for this part, I think,” Draco said, shoving Harry out of the way so he could assume the position. Harry crawled around behind him, taking the lotion with him.

“Oh, wait,” he said, getting off the bed to rummage around for his wand. He picked it up and waved it at the door, incanting, “ _Silencio_.”

“Maybe a cleaning charm too,” Draco suggested, waving behind himself. “Just in case?”

Harry agreed. “That's a good idea,” he said, and then performed the charm. Draco gave a little squeak, but settled quickly.

“Okay, let's see,” Harry moved behind Draco again, reaching out and running his hands over Draco's buttocks and up his back. He pulled the cheeks apart, peering between them at Draco's hole. It was tiny, a dusty color that was dark against the paleness of his skin. Harry shook his head, very sceptical.

“Are you sure it's going to fit?” He looked down at his penis, only half hard now, but it still looked far too large for the task. He would like to flatter himself, but he knew he wasn't that big...seven or eight inches if he was lucky, a fair size.

“I'm sure,” Draco's reply was muffled by his pillow. “You just need to loosen me up a bit.”

“Okay,” Harry said, still doubtful. He squeezed Draco's arse again. It really was a fine arse, the skin was soft and unblemished and the muscles were firm. Draco was very responsive, as always, twitching when Harry pushed them apart again, stroking the soft skin inside them with his thumbs.

Despite his doubts, Harry was getting hard again. He wasn't sure if it could work, but the thought of burying himself inside Draco was intoxicating. He reached for the lotion and squirted some onto his fingers, working it in to warm it up a bit before separating Draco's cheeks with his remaining hand.

He slid the first finger in, meeting very little resistance before being sucked into a hot, tight grip. Draco's muscles twitched, causing Harry to moan at the sensation. His cock was almost fully hard again, the grip that Draco's hole had on his finger was doing strange things to his self control. He suddenly realized why people wanted to do this. He couldn't see what was in it for Draco, but he wanted it so Harry wasn't about to stop now.

He moved the finger in and out a few times, trying to stretch Draco out a bit and make it easier to get the second finger in. Draco twitched a few times, but did not protest. Once he had loosened the hole a bit, he pulled his finger out and put a bit more lotion on.

“Is this okay?” he asked, as he slid two fingers in. Draco hissed a bit, but relaxed quickly.

“Yes,” Draco said. “It feels...odd, but I like it.”

“Alright,” Harry said, twisting his fingers around again. Suddenly Draco gasped, arching back into Harry's hand.

“What?” Harry said, alarmed. He stopped his movements to let Draco adjust, but the vice grip on his fingers was making his cock throb.

“Right there, you...don't stop,” Draco pleaded, pushing back again.

“Okay,” Harry said, twisting his fingers again, noting that when he rubbed across a particular spot inside Draco, he gasped and twitched some more. Harry pulled his fingers out, putting just one inside again, so he could better feel around for it. He found it without trouble and began rubbing it as best he could, soaking up Draco's increasingly frantic reactions.

“You like that,” he told Draco, rubbing harder, squeezing Draco's arse with the other hand.

“Yes!” Draco yelled, twisting his hips and pushing back at Harry. “You...it's, you'd better stop.”

“Stop?” Harry questioned, pushing hard against the spot and holding it, grinning like a loon at Draco's yowl in response. “You want me to stop?”

“Please,” Draco begged. “I want to come with you inside me," he said, pulling forward, away from Harry's torturous finger.

“If you insist.” Harry pulled his finger out, dripping on some more lotion onto his fingers before sliding three of them in. It was smooth and easy now, Draco was quite relaxed and he'd been well stretched by Harry's experimenting. He took three fingers with a moan and began pushing back again.

“Harry, I'm ready, I'm...” His body was trembling now, and Harry was well ready, his cock throbbing in urgency, straining up toward its goal. He wasted no time in pulling his fingers out, picking up the lotion again and slicking his cock generously.

“How do you want me to do this?” Harry asked, rubbing Draco with one finger, mesmerized by the way the pucker twitched when he ran the tip over the loosened hole.

“Uh, me on top, come sit up here,” Draco said, moving out of he way so Harry could crawl to the top of the bed. He turned around and sat on the pillow, tucking the other one behind his back and leaning against the headboard.

“I think I like this,” Harry said as Draco moved to straddle him, his cock rubbing precome onto Harry's belly.

“Me too,” Draco said. “I can control it better, but I can still kiss you.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “And you get to do all the work.”

“Lazy,” Draco said, but the word lacked conviction. He rocked back and forth a bit, rubbing Harry's cock between his arse cheeks, slicking up the crease and making Harry moan and clutch at his hips.

“Draco, don't be a tease,” he gasped out, trying to still Draco's movements.

“Takes one to know one,” Draco said. “Hold onto yourself.” Harry obeyed, gripping the base of his cock with one hand while Draco positioned his loosened hole over it, rubbing back and forth a bit more, before sinking onto the tip.

He hissed, the intrusion burning a bit, but it didn't deter him.

“God, Draco,” Harry gasped, letting go of his cock and holding Draco's hips again, his fingers digging in, holding on for his sanity. He threw his head back and that's when he noticed the sparkle in the air around them.

“What's that?” he asked Draco, sweat beading on his forehead as he tried to maintain his concentration.

“What's what?” Draco said, not looking up, but pushing down harder, taking Harry inside in a smooth slide, not stopping until he was fully seated, his balls resting against Harry's.

“That,” Harry said when he could suck some air in, the tight, soft heat of Draco's body making it almost impossible for him to speak. He panted, trying to calm down so that he didn't come before they even got started.

Draco lifted his head, freezing at the sight that greeted him. The sparkle in the air had turned into a shimmer, clouding the features of the room as it swirled around them. Draco shifted a bit, making Harry moan and thrust up, forgetting the shimmering as Draco's muscles twitched around them.

“Harry,” Draco pleaded, shifting again as Harry began to thrust slowly. They both forgot about the strange magic working around them as the sensations heightened. Harry began to thrust upward as Draco rocked back and forth, stopping and starting a few times until they found a mutual rhythm. Once they found it they began to move faster, Harry's hands on Draco's hips were guiding him up and down in time with Harry's upward thrusts.

Draco clenched his hands in Harry's hair, hanging on to his broad shoulders for balance as he bounced on Harry's cock, gasping and panting as the pressure built both inside and out. Both boys were beyond noticing that the shimmering had become a cloud with them in the center, outlining them as if the sun were behind them, it's brilliance filling the room as they continued moving toward completion.

“Harry, I can't, I...” Draco stammered as he felt the pleasure rise up inside him, Harry's thrusts were hitting his prostate regularly, his cock filling Draco up the way he'd imagined it would. It felt even better than he'd thought, nothing could have prepared him for this.

Harry was close as well. Draco's channel was tightening around him, his entire body shuddering with the force of his pleasure. Harry realized that his was doing the same.

“Draco, please, please, I need it,” he begged, unsure of what he needed so bad until Draco provided it by pushing down harder, faster, his fingers making bruises across Harry's shoulders that matched the ones Harry was making on his hips.

The peak came fast, with Draco spurting hot onto Harry's chest, squeezing Harry's climax out of him as his hole gripped Harry's cock ever tighter. They moaned together as the result of their love making was caught between them, Draco's on their chests and bellies, while Harry's release slickened the passage between them further.

Draco's movements stopped as they shivered in the aftermath, Harry's hands slipping from their grip of Draco's hips to wrap around his sweaty body, holding him close even as Draco's arms clung to his neck and shoulders. Both boys noticed it at the same time, the shimmering cloud surrounding them seemed to attach itself to them, sealing them in a cocoon of warmth, pleasure and love before dissipating, absorbing itself into their bodies.

Sleep overcame them swiftly, whether it was a result of their exertions or the magic that had overtaken then, neither had time to ponder. Harry slid into a prone position, taking Draco with him, pulling him to the side and positioning them both comfortably. He shivered as the cooling sweat on his body evaporated, and he reached for the blanket.

He was too far gone to notice that it leapt off the floor and into his hand, settling itself over them both as he slipped into a much needed slumber.

*

Harry woke up with a rather painful crick in his neck. He was slumped over, his head pressed against the head board with Draco pressed on his side, half on top of him. That part was comfortable, but the angle his head was in was much less so. He tried to clear his fuzzy head and remember what had got him in this position. It didn't take long to figure it out as the skin on his chest was tight and itchy. It was also flaky, as he discovered when he scratched it. Draco was wrapped around him like a leech, and Harry could see the flakes on his belly as well. It all came rushing back to him then, the vivid sensations of being inside Draco, of holding him, kissing him, the smooth slide of their bodies together and the bliss of the climax.

He remembered the shimmering magic that had settled on them, and how they'd all but passed out immediately after they'd absorbed it. He thought that perhaps it should worry him, but instead he felt more contented and peaceful than he ever had before. Except for the crick in his neck, that is.

He shuffled down a bit, moving Draco slightly as he went. Draco snuffled against his shoulder, his arm tightening across Harry's chest as he resettled. Harry sighed, laying in the peace and dozing off for a while. There was no need to get up, they had accomplished their last task and, for now, could enjoy some much needed relaxation.

When he woke again, Draco had rolled over onto his side and Harry was spooned around his back. He realized that he'd need to pee soon, but his erect cock sliding between Draco's cheeks was much more pressing. He rubbed harder, flexing his hips and sliding back and forth, moaning with the added tension against his inflamed cock. There was still some wetness left there from the night before, though it was sticky rather than slick. Harry wondered if Draco would be up for another round and, as if he'd wished it so, Draco spoke up.

“Gonna fuck me again, Harry?” His voice was gravelly from sleep, and Harry's cock throbbed further and the sound of it.

“If you're up for it,” he replied, sliding a hand down Draco's chest and finding that his cock was erect as well. “Oh look, it seems like you are.”

Draco chuckled. “I really am,” he said, rolling onto his stomach, pushing his cock against the bed and opening his legs for Harry to slide between. “I'm willing if you are.”

“Oh, I am very willing,” Harry said, shifting so he was kneeling behind Draco. He pulled Draco's cheeks apart, peering in like he had the night before. He was pleased to see that the hole was still somewhat loosened and ready to take him.

“Where's the lotion?” He asked, glancing around the bed and the floor for the misplaced tube.

“I don't know,” Draco said impatiently. “You had it last night.”

Harry sighed. He had no recollection of where he had tossed it the night before, he had been more than a bit distracted at the time. He looked around for his wand and spotted it all the way across the room.

“Damn,” he muttered, then grumbled, “ _Accio_ lotion.” To his shock the tube came flying up from under a discarded pillow and right into his hand. He sat there stunned, looking down at the tube in his hand before glancing again at his wand across the room. He wasn't sure what to do or think. He'd never been able to do anything wandlessly before. He suddenly remembered Draco's vision of him killing the snake, of his inexplicable power. He was about to ask Draco about it when he was interrupted.

“Are you taking a nap back there, or are you going to fuck me, already?” Draco asked, wiggling his arse temptingly at Harry.

“Oh no, I'm going to fuck you right now,” he said, putting the strange magic out of his mind. There were more important things to focus on.

“Well, hurry up, I don't have all day,” Draco wiggled again, so Harry smacked his arse.

“Hey!” Draco exclaimed. “We can get to the kinky stuff later, just get on with it.”

Harry opened the tube and slicked his cock thoroughly. “What do you know about kinky stuff?” He lined up carefully, sliding the slick tip of his cock between Draco's cheeks to ease the slide.

“That book is very comprehensive,” Draco replied, muffled by the pillow.

“I bet it is,” Harry said, distracting Draco from commenting further by pushing inside, groaning at the feel of hot, tight, soft and slick. “Uhhn, so good,” he said, rotating his hips.

“Mmm, finally,” Draco said, pushing back against Harry. Harry began thrusting smoothly, bracing himself with his hands on Draco's shoulders which made Draco push his arse up further, changing Harry's position so that he was rubbing against Draco's prostate with every slide.

“Oh, right there, Harry, don't...don't stop, please, don't stop,” Draco moaned, muffled by the pillow.

“Never, wanna, stop,” Harry said, gasping out a word with every thrust. He picked up the pace, pushing harder and faster the more Draco moaned and squirmed under him, until he was coming hard into Draco's arse. He slowed down, but Draco cried out in protest, so he picked it up again.

Draco came shortly after, gripping the pillow his face was buried in as if it was the only thing keeping him anchored to the bed. It was good timing, as Harry was softening and beginning to feel very sensitive, his arms trembling with the strain of holding his body up. He pulled out with a grunt, rolling over onto his back, exhausted. Draco didn't move at all, just laying boneless and panting into the pillow.

It wasn't long until he sat up, looking down at himself and the bed in disgust. “Ugh, I'm disgusting.”

Harry looked over at him, running a hand down Draco's sticky chest. “No. You are filthy, but disgusting you are not,” he said with a leer, waggling his brows.

“Don't even start with me,” Draco said, smacking Harry on the hip. “There's no way I'm letting you shag me again.”

“You say that now, but tonight you'll be begging for it again,” Harry said, grinning his most charming grin.

“In your dreams,” Draco said, but he burst out laughing before long. “Fine, so I will, but we're getting cleaned up now.”

“What? You turn me down and then expect me to jump when you want a quick Scourgify?”

The argument was stopped cold when the tingle of a powerful cleaning charm washed over them. They looked down at themselves and the sheets, in shock when they saw it was clean. The sheets were pristine, as if they had not had two rounds of sweaty sex atop them, and their bodies were freshly scrubbed as if they'd just stepped out of the shower.

Their eyes met, wide with disbelief. “Did you just,” Draco began, and Harry nodded.

“Yeah, and that's not all. I accioed the lotion earlier, without my wand.”

“What do you mean, were you trying to?”

Harry shook his head. “No, I just mumbled the charm, annoyed that my wand was across the room, and the tube leapt into my hand.”

“Just like that?” Draco asked.

“Just like that.”

“But, what does this mean?”

Harry looked thoughtful and again he had a vision of last night's events flash through his mind. “You remember last night, when we were... almost done?”

“Yeah,” Draco said, his brow furrowed. “It was like a shimmery cloud, and it settled into it us when we came.”

“I think it did something to us,” Harry said, looking worried.

“I think it was just you, I don't feel any different,” Draco replied.

“Neither do I, except that my magic has been...” He trailed off, looking Draco right in the eye. Draco caught on really quick.

“Very powerful, wandless magic,” he said in a near whisper. “Harry.”

“I know,” Harry said, sitting up and taking Draco's hand. “Just like your vision.”

“Yes.”

They sat in silence, letting it sink in, until Harry coughed and flushed.

“I think we, uh...we need to tell Dumbledore about this,” he said, averting his eyes from Draco's.

“Oh,” Draco thought about that for a moment. ”I suppose we do. But, we don't have to tell him about all of it, do we?”

Harry flushed deeper. “I think we do. He'll want to know, and it might be important. Besides, he'll know right away that we're holding back, and he'll make us tell.”

“Okay,” Draco said. “But you can do the talking.”

“Fair enough,” Harry said, nodding.

“Good.”

“Right then, let's send a message. The sooner we talk to him, the sooner we get it over with and we can start dealing with it,” Harry said, standing up and rummaging for his clothes.

“Alright,” Draco agreed reluctantly, following Harry's lead. It was going to be an interesting conversation, that was certain.

*

As it turned out it was past tea time before Dumbledore was able to make it to the house. Ron and Hermione had retired to their room, despite Hermione's wish to learn as much as possible about Harry's new abilities. Draco could see the battle between tact and curiosity being waged on her face, but eventually the tact had won and she'd led Ron upstairs.

Harry and Draco remained in the kitchen, awaiting the arrival of the Headmaster, they hoped with an explanation.

At last, he arrived, whirring into the room as gracefully as always, and greeting them with much cordiality. Dumbledore was nothing if not a jolly fellow.

“What is it that has brought me here, boys? Your missive was rather vague,” Dumbledore conjured up a tea service, complete with biscuits and proceeded to pour them each a cup.

“Well,” Harry began, shooting a nervous look at Draco. “Something...odd happened to us last night, and it seems to have...changed me.”

Dumbledore looked sharply up from his tea. “Changed you? In what way?”

“Well, I seem to be able to perform wandless magic.”

“Indeed?”

“It's not something I had mastered before. In fact, I'd never been able to do it.” Harry was fidgeting, unsure of how this conversation was going to proceed and wary of it.

“Few have the ability of wandless magic,” Dumbledore explained. “It requires a great deal of power.”

“Well, that's another thing,” Harry added. “When I use my wand, or not, my spells are always powerful, much more than they'd ever been in the past.”

“That is very interesting. It seems something has occurred which has given you this power.” Dumbledore set his teacup aside and looked solemnly at the pair. “What happened last night, boys? Details, if you please.”

Harry shared another look with Draco, who was already flushing. “We uh...it's kind of embarrassing,” Harry said, clenching and unclenching his hands.

“Be that as it may, this is a serious matter. If I am to help you discover what has happened, which is, I believe, why you asked me here, I am going to need to understand the mechanics of the event.”

“Right, well, I'll just say it, shall I?” Harry said, taking a deep breath. Draco reached over and entwined their fingers, his touch giving Harry the burst of courage he needed to share their intimate details with someone they had both come to look up to as a parent.

“Last night, Draco and I...made love, for the first time.” Dumbledore's only reaction to Harry's words was a curious lift of one eyebrow.

Harry continued. “We, uh, we'd been together for a, uh...a while, but it was the first time we'd actually...” He trailed off, uncertain of how to say what they all knew had happened. Dumbledore had mercy on him, though it didn't feel so.

“So, the two of you had penetrative sex last night, the first time together? Or the first time in general?” He took another sip of his tea, as placid as if they'd been discussing the weather.

“Umm, both,” Harry said, squeezing back when Draco tightened his grip. “When we were almost, um, done...we saw this shimmering cloud in the room, surrounding us.”

Draco interjected, “Actually, Harry saw it before right when he...began the uh, the...penetration.”

“Indeed? So this...cloud formed around you at the moment of penetration and surrounded you at climax?”

Harry coughed. “Um, yeah.”

“And what happened in the aftermath?”

“Well, it was surrounding us, completely covering us and then...it just kind of soaked into us both. Like, um...lotion.” Both boys blushed at the mention of the very substance they had used as lube. Neither boy would be able to think of lotion the same way again.

“It soaked into you? It was absorbed into your skin?” Dumbledore asked pointedly.

“Yes, just like that,” Harry replied.

“And this morning, you have the ability, suddenly, to perform wandless magic, and you have noticed an increase in your magical power,” Dumbledore stated the facts of the situation before moving on to another question.

“Have you noticed, is the power greater when Draco is touching you?”

Harry furrowed his brow. “Well, I was touching Draco both times this morning when it happened,”

“But you weren't when we were testing it out, with Ron and Hermione," Draco added.

“No, but the spells weren't as strong then, either. Remember, I thought it was passing?”

“Yes,” Draco said, thinking back to that afternoon.

“So, it is stronger when Draco is touching you,” Dumbledore clarified.

“I think so,” Harry said.

“Can you demonstrate for me, please? Summon a mug from the cupboard, and then repeat it, without any contact with Draco.”

“Okay,” Harry said. He squeezed Draco's hand and spoke clearly. “ _Accio_ red mug.” The mug in question came immediately and with great speed into his outstretched hand. Dumbledore nodded as Harry placed it on the table.

“Very good. Now, if you please,” He gestured to their entwined hands. Draco let go and moved away from Harry, sliding down the bench to be sure there was no accidental contact.

“Again, Harry.”

“ _Accio_ blue mug,” Harry said, waiting as the mug made a clatter inside the cupboard before making a much more leisurely journey across the kitchen toward him.

“Well, that settles that, most definitively,” Dumbledore grinned at them. “I do believe I know what has happened to you, and what the source of the power is. I had the idea in mind, as one of several possibilities to explain Draco and his connection with you. Now I know for certain.”

Draco had moved back down the bench and had taken Harry's hand once more. “You know?” he asked excitedly. “What is it?”

Dumbledore did not torture them further, getting right down to business. “Draco, you are what is referred to in ancient texts as a magical conduit.”

“A magical...I've never heard of such a thing,” Draco said.

“I would be surprised if you had. Such a power is exceptionally rare, and is certainly not common knowledge.”

“So, what does that mean?” Harry asked.

“What it means is that Draco has the ability to channel the magic around him, from the air, the earth, from himself as well as you, Harry, and focus it all in your body. Your power is great because you are now properly bonded to him, but when Draco touches you, the magic flows much more freely.”

“I don't understand,” Harry said. “How are we bonded? When did that happen?”

“Allow me to start at the beginning, dear boy. Magical conduits are people who are in tune with only one other, one they are exceptionally compatible with. They spend their lives dreaming of that person, much as Draco has dreamed of you all his life. These dreams are the magic's way of forging a bond between the two, one that will be completed when, not only have the pair engaged in the most intimate of sexual activity, as this bond is always, without exception, between romantic partners, but after you have become cognisant of your mutual love.”

Dumbledore took a sip of his tea, before continuing. “The dreams, all of them focused only on the conduit's bondmate, and all of them precognitive, function to prime the conduit, enabling an immediate flow of power when the bond is completed. I believe the visions of the Horcruxes, their locations and the manner of their retrieval began after you had both recognized your love for one another. The magic will decipher the needs of the receiving partner and manifest the visions in a manner that best suits the situation.”

“This is crazy,” Harry declared, confusion and awe written all over his face.

“There is more,” Dumbledore replied. “When the couple in question engages in the first act of penetration, the bond is shifted into alignment, bringing forth all the emotions that are within you, as well as your innate abilities. You are tuned up, in a manner of speaking, in tune with each other and the magic surrounding you.”

Harry and Draco sat, staring at Dumbledore, dumbstruck. It all made sense, of course it did, from the prophecy to the wandless magic. Yet having it explained and laid on the line for them was humbling. Finally Draco coughed and asked the question that they were both thinking.

“Sir, if Riddle had succeeded in bonding me to him, what would have happened?” Harry glanced at Draco, meeting his worried eyes and giving his hand a squeeze.

“Such an occurrence would have indeed been disastrous. Riddle would not have been able to complete a successful bond with you Draco, in that he would have received no power from it. However, in binding you to him, instead of allowing the magic to reach its natural conclusion, he would have, in essence, put a wall up between you and Harry. Even if you had found each other after the fact, your bond would have been hampered by the one Riddle had forced upon you, making the exchange of power impossible. If such a bond had been completed, your magic would have suffered greatly and your visions would have stopped abruptly. The connection between you, before you met and began to fall in love, was simply too weak to withstand such barrier being put in place.”

“That's horrible,” Harry said, his eyes wide.

“It is indeed. It is a very good thing that you were able to rescue Draco from his clutches, Harry. That was very well done,” Dumbledore nodded his approval.

“Thank you,” Draco said, looking right at Harry. Their eyes met and held, and Harry let go of his hand to wrap his arms around Draco's shoulders, pulling him in for a hug. “Thank you for saving me from him.”

“You're very welcome, love,” Harry said, forgetting Dumbledore was in the room long enough to kiss Draco gently, just a simple pressing of their lips to give comfort and reassurance.

“Well, now that we have the knowledge of your bond, we can begin preparing for its use. Harry, I'd like you to begin training with Remus. He can help guide you in what spells are most important, as well as teach you some new ones that should prove no difficulty considering your new found power. I would like for you to discover the limits of that power, particularly when you and Draco are not in contact and discover if the power fades with increased distance.”

“It sounds like a good idea, sir,” Harry agreed.

“Draco, I'd been thinking about the need to get you a wand of your own, but I now believe that such a thing would not be beneficial. An artificial focus may well take some of the power away from Harry, or disrupt the flow.”

“Okay,” Draco said sadly. He had been hoping to get a wand as soon as it became a possibility, but now he had to face the fact that he would likely never have one.

“Do not look so downtrodden, little one,” Dumbledore said fondly. “I believe you'll find that you possess a certain amount of wandless ability as well, and will not have the need for a wand in the future.”

Draco's eyes widened, but when Dumbledore gestured, he tried it out. “ _Accio_ biscuits,” he said clearly and, sure enough, a package of his favorite chocolate biscuits came out of the cupboard and flew through the air toward him. It didn't come as fast as Harry's first attempt, but it was comparable to his second.

Both boys stared at the package in surprise, before sharing bright grins with each other. Harry couldn't resist leaning over to give Draco another kiss, he was far too lovely all lit up with happiness for Harry to resist. Draco took a biscuit out of the package and bit into it, beaming.

“Well boys, I believe I will leave you for this evening. I have much to arrange for you, in addition to the continued repair efforts. We will have lunch tomorrow with Remus and shall discuss the particulars then.” He stood up and moved to the fireplace, turning around to address the boys one more time.

“I am very happy for you both. Magical bonds notwithstanding, I am thrilled to see the two of you so happy in love. It does this old heart very well. Very well indeed.” He twinkled down at them, sending them a wink.

“Until tomorrow,” he said and then, with a flash of flame, he was gone again.

*

And so, the next afternoon Harry began his training. At first, Remus wanted to test Harry's strength and power without Draco, so he was relegated to the library with Ron and Hermione. He didn't have the attention span just then for studying or research, so he challenged Ron to a game of chess. Their shaky truce was holding up fine, and Draco had been surprised to learn that Ron was an exceptional chess player. Draco had thought he was very good, until Ron had beat him soundly four games out of four. He had made it his goal to beat the redheaded boy, one day.

They had finished five games and Draco was beginning to get restless when Harry stumbled into the room, collapsing into an armchair.

“Harry!” Draco exclaimed, dashing across the room to his side. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine,” Harry said, taking Draco's hand and tugging him down into the chair. “I'm just tired. Utterly knackered would be a better description, actually.”

“You do look pale, Harry,” Hermione added from beside the chair. Harry just nodded, pulling Draco into his lap and burying his face in Draco's neck.

“Well, Remus always was a strict teacher,” Ron reminded them, from where he was setting up the chess pieces for the next match.

“He hasn't changed,” Harry said, surfacing from his hiding place. “He made me go through every spell I'd ever learned, it seemed. Do you know how exhausting it is to cast a wandless Patronus?”

“The Patronus Charm does require a great deal of magical energy,” Hermione said. “In essence, you're creating a magical being, however short lived.”

Ron rolled his eye and Harry chuckled, but Draco was, as always, intrigued by Hermione's extensive knowledge.

“I've never learned about the Patronus Charm,” Draco said. “What does it do?”

But Harry stopped Hermione before she could get started. “Can we save the lessons for later? I just want to rest right now, please?” He reached up and stroked Draco's chin, bringing him down for a kiss.

“I don't think what you have in mind is very relaxing,” Draco said, taking his cue from not only the kiss, but from Harry's hand squeezing his bum, out of sight of the others.

“Oh, I don't know,” Harry said with a leer. “I'd be very relaxed afterwards.”

“Can we save the sexual innuendo for later?” Hermione asked, mimicking Harry's earlier plea to her. “Did Remus teach you any other spells?”

Harry nodded. “Yes, he taught me a bunch of new ones...some of them rather on the dark side, but he thought I might need them when I have to face Riddle again.”

“I don't know Harry, it sounds dangerous,” Hermione warned, always on guard against dark magic. She'd make a great Ministry worker, that one, Harry thought.

“Don't be ridiculous,” Draco interjected. “Riddle is awash in dark magic, and if Harry is to kill him, he'll need to be able to match him. There are few light spells that will be able to defeat a wizard like that.”

“Besides, I trust Remus' judgement, and I know you do too,” Harry added. Hermione pursed her lips, clearly not pleased with the idea, but she let it go nonetheless.

“Are you done for the day then?” Draco asked, running his finger's through Harry's dishevelled hair.

“Yes, he wants to start right after breakfast tomorrow though, with you this time,” Harry said, closing his eyes.

“Okay,” Draco agreed, scratching Harry's scalp gently. Harry was practically purring in pleasure, and Draco squirming against his hardening cock was not helping matters.

“Right, I've had about enough of this,” Ron said, getting up and grabbing Hermione's hand. “Let's go see about dinner, shall we?” He said, giving Harry and Draco another wave.

Once they were alone, Draco leaned down to give Harry the kiss they'd both been wanting. Their mouths opened as soon as their lips touched, tongues coming out to stroke the other, to taste and tease. Draco's hands were buried in Harry's hair, hanging on as he often did when Harry's kisses threatened to sweep him away. Harry was still clenching Draco's arse, pulling him closer and grinding up against him for friction.

“We should go to bed,” Draco said, gasping as Harry's teeth and tongue attacked a sensitive part of his neck.

“Mmm,” Harry mumbled, his lips still possessing the soft skin he had become so enamoured with.

“Not here,” Draco said with increasing urgency, as Harry's lips and hands became more aggressive. “Anyone could walk in, I don't want a repeat of the Dumbledore incident."

The reminder was sufficient to get Harry to detach himself from Draco's neck, pulling back to meet Draco's grey eyes with hot green ones.

“Then let's go to bed,” he said, pushing Draco up again.

“Excellent idea,” Draco rolled his eyes, but followed Harry eagerly.

*

The next morning, Draco joined Harry and Remus in the room that had been cleared just for the purpose of training. He was unsure of what he'd be able to contribute, besides holding Harry's hand for the duration.

“Draco, Albus has informed me that you are able to perform magic wandlessly as well. Can we test that out a bit?” Remus said, gesturing for him to step forward.

Draco nodded his agreement and so it began. He was surprised at how many spells he was asked to cast, both alone and in concert with Harry. They found that Harry's power was not only much stronger when in contact with Draco, but he did not tire, magically or physically. Remus was certain that he would eventually need rest but for their purposes Harry was inexhaustible, so long as Draco was holding his hand or touching him. They tested the distance factor, how Harry's power decreased with increasing distance from Draco, as well as if there was a marked difference when Draco was only touching Harry with a finger, or holding his hand, or pressed against his back.

It seemed not to matter how close they were, just being in contact with Draco allowed Harry to tap in to enormous amounts of power. He was able to cast wandlessly and, as Draco's vision had foretold, non verbally as well.

Then Remus put them through a series of drills, wherein Draco had to cast alongside Harry, anticipating his spell choices and casting his own accordingly. Remus was amazed at how well they worked together, casting often in unison, spells that complemented each other perfectly, whether for destruction or otherwise. Draco seemed to sense what Harry was going to cast, and was able to keep up with him, without exception.

Finally Remus let them rest, though neither of them felt particularly tired. “I think that's enough for today boys,” he said. “I'm sure we can all use some lunch, and I need to talk to Albus about all this.”

Harry and Draco agreed, and the trio headed toward the kitchen, to find Molly Weasley cooking up a storm. They smiled at each other and greeted her warmly. Meals were always superb when Molly was around.

The next week followed the same general pattern. Training in the morning, lunch, then some relaxation in the afternoon. They talked about strategy and the nature of the bond during dinner; Dumbledore and Remus were full of ideas and information, as always, and the other four just soaked it all up. After dinner on the second evening, Dumbledore announced that there would be an Order meeting that coming Friday, as it was time to begin preparations for a final confrontation with Riddle. Remus was certain that Harry and Draco were as ready as they could become, and the situation was becoming desperate.

Riddle was quickly gaining political backing and power, and it seemed that he would launch a campaign against the Minister before long, in the hopes that he could unseat him and take the chair for himself. Death Eater attacks were on the rise, but the vast majority of the population was unaware that Riddle was in fact behind them. His plan to separate himself from the name of Voldemort after his reanimation had been successful; he was able to ingratiate with the magical population, while simultaneously subverting them through fear, unbeknownst to them. It was a dire situation; Riddle needed to be stopped and soon, before he gained the real power he needed to take over Wizarding Britain completely.

The night after their first dual training session, Draco woke suddenly from a dream. It was the first vision he'd experienced since he and Harry had completed their bond, and it was terrifying.

“Merlin, Harry,” Draco breathed, panting as if he'd been running for miles.

“Mmm, Draco,” Harry mumbled, rolling over and pushing himself up slowly. “Another vision?”

Draco nodded, shivering, but letting Harry pull him back down onto the bed. He snuggled right in when Harry wrapped his arms around him, he was accustomed to it now. Sleeping alone was in the cold, distant past, one he never wanted to return to. He didn't miss his parents as much as he thought he would when he'd first followed Harry out of Riddle Manor, but he supposed that was because they had barely been a presence in his life for the years preceding his escape. Harry was all he needed now and, as he'd come to realize, was all he'd ever needed.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked, like clockwork. Some might have felt frustrated with the routine they'd settled into, but Draco loved it. Harry was constant, consistent and ever present. Draco had never known such certainty.

“I am now,” he said, pressing himself against Harry's body.

“What was it this time?” Harry rubbed up and down his back, soothing the tremors and Draco's fears.

“I think...I think it was the battle,” Draco said. “You and Riddle, there were others in the background, but everyone was watching you. You were taunting each other, there's no other way to describe it, and he was furious about something.”

“Where were you?”

“With you. I was holding your hand,” Draco pulled back and smiled up at Harry. “Right where I want to be.”

Harry smiled back. “Anything else?”

“No, it wasn't that clear. I don't think it's going to happen right away, but soon.” Draco shuddered again.

“You'll probably know more tomorrow night,” Harry said, still rubbing Draco's back.

“I don't want to see it again,” Draco said.

“I know love, I know,” Harry said. “Just a few more times, then we'll deal with him and it'll all be over.” Draco sniffed. The vision had impacted him, not only with the immediacy of the showdown but with the risks involved. He hadn't seen if Harry would survive, just that he would confront Riddle. Draco shivered again. The thought of Harry losing was unthinkable, the thought of what Riddle would do to him was an after thought, nothing could be worse than life without Harry.

For the first time after Draco had a vision, they didn't initiate any sex. Draco was shaken and Harry was too worried to shut it off and just let go, so instead, they held each other close, breathing in what peace they could find. The reckoning was coming, all too soon for both of them, though it wasn't soon enough.

*

Draco continued to dream of the confrontation, more bits of information coming up each time. He realized that they were in the field outside Godric's Hollow, near the cemetery where Harry's parents were buried. He wasn't privy to the words between Riddle and Harry, but he did see his parents, and Dumbledore, Weasley, Order members, other Death Eaters and people who Draco did not know. It was disconcerting, that he was seeing the entire picture of the vision, it was not focused solely on Harry. He was seeing it all from over Harry's shoulder, so he was seeing everything that Harry saw.

A few more nights and Draco realized that the night of the confrontation was Harry's birthday. Flashes of their activities earlier in the day had come to him, including the two of them waking in bed, Harry's face on the pillow across from him, his hair mussed from sleep. Harry's bright grin at lunch when the Weasley family showed up with gifts and food. Harry looking grim as he and Dumbledore had a serious talk, before they all left the house for the final confrontation, then a familiar flash of Harry killing the snake, gripping Draco's hand tightly for more than just the power it afforded him.

But Draco could see nothing about the climax of it, nothing to indicate if Harry survived or if Riddle was victorious. Nothing that would give him a clue about how Harry could defeat his opponent. It was unnerving to say the least.

By the morning before the Order meeting, Draco knew the place, time and date of the final showdown. They were happy to be forewarned but the stress was eating away at Draco. His inability to see the outcome was keeping him in a constant state of near panic, even more so because the result would define his future. However, Hermione had come up with an idea to help them relax and have some fun before the big day, all they needed was Dumbledore's permission. There were far too many things at stake to just go without an adult knowing.

So on the night of the meeting, they talked to Dumbledore in the library, as Molly, Arthur and Remus were in the kitchen, preparing refreshments and organising the seating.

“You four look as if you are planning something,” Dumbledore said, sitting down across from where they were clustered.

“Well sir, that's because we are,” Hermione said. It was her idea, so she would do the asking or, if need be, begging. “All the stress has been piling up on us lately, but on Harry and Draco the most.”

“Mostly Draco,” Harry interjected. “He's the one who has to see it over and over, every night. It's not the same just hearing about it.”

“Exactly,” Hermione agreed. “And he could use a break, something to distract him from the upcoming battle. We all could.”

“What have you got planned?” Dumbledore asked, watching them shrewdly.

“I thought a trip to Muggle London would do the trick.”

“Indeed. Go on.”

“Well, Draco has never seen it and neither has Ron, so I thought we could make a day of it. Have lunch, do some shopping, maybe have a nice dinner somewhere kind of fancy,”

“And who will be paying for that, do you think?” Harry interjected smoothly, winking at Hermione when she glared at him.

“As I was saying,” she turned back to Dumbledore and continued. “Maybe we could go to the cinema after. It would be nice to spend some time just being teenagers.”

“It would be a nice break for all of you,” Dumbledore agreed. “However, your safety is what concerns me. So close to the confrontation, and with everyone's emotions running high, perhaps it is not the best time for such a thing.”

“I understand Professor,” Hermione said solemnly. “But to be perfectly frank sir, there is no other time. Considering what is being asked of Harry, and by extension, Draco, it is only fair that they be given a bit of leeway. Muggle London is practically free of wizards, very few of them travel there at all, save to Kings Cross to meet the Hogwarts Express. Certainly those who would immediately recognize and attack either Harry or Draco would not venture there at all.”

“I see your point, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore was quiet for a few moments, considering their request. The four shared nervous glances, all anticipating him to reject the idea. His blessing meant the difference between going and staying, despite the fact that they were all of age, except for Harry.

Finally he looked up at them. “Alright, you may go with my blessing. I am sure that you will take any necessary precautions, Miss Granger, and I would like to be given one of those clever coins you use, in the event that something should occur. I must also insist on tracking charms, so that we can locate you all immediately should the need arise.”

“Absolutely Professor, I'll see to it,” Hermione said, beaming at him. Harry squeezed Draco until he thought he might pop, and Ron was grinning goofily at them.

“Well then, that is settled. I will tell Remus and have him set the charms on you before you leave. When will that be?”

“Monday,” Hermione said. “We thought we'd wait until after the weekend, it will be much less chaotic with all the weekend shoppers back to work.”

“I agree,” Dumbledore said, standing. “And now, we must get downstairs, it is almost time to begin the meeting.”

He received a chorus of thank you's as they followed him to the kitchen, practically bouncing with excitement. It had been a long stressful six weeks for all of them; to have such a vacation planned so soon was liberating.

*

The kitchen was almost full when they arrived. While Harry, Ron and Hermione knew most of the people there, Draco knew almost none. It was a little overwhelming to say the least, more so when he spotted Severus Snape.

“Harry,” he hissed, grabbing Harry's elbow and pulling him close. “That man, the tall one with the greasy hair.” He gestured toward where Snape was talking to Remus, his face a dour mask, as usual.

“That's Snape,” Harry replied. “He's a total git, but Dumbledore trusts him. He's the Potions professor at Hogwarts.”

“I know,” Draco said frantically. “He taught me potions too. He's a Death Eater Harry, you can't trust him!” Draco was panicking, but Harry just pulled him close.

“It's okay Draco, I know. He's a spy for us, he has been for as long as we've been alive. He's been helping Dumbledore destroy the Horcruxes.”

Draco gave him a sceptical look. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am. As much as I can't stand him, he's on our side.” Harry rubbed Draco's arms reassuringly.

“He won't tell Riddle I'm here?” Draco was still nervous.

“I'm sure if he was going to, he would have already. I'm sure Dumbledore told him about you when I brought you home.” Harry directed Draco to a spot at the table, between Hermione and Remus.

“If you say so,” Draco was still unsure, but he trusted Harry and he trusted Dumbledore as well.

Then the meeting began and they turned their attention to the front. They heard reports from several people about Riddle's political aspirations, and the increasing instances of the Imperious Curse within the ranks of the Ministry. They heard about the Death Eater attacks and how they were increasing attacks against purebloods and Muggles alike.

After hearing it all, Dumbledore took the floor again. “All of this is pointing to one conclusion. We need to put an end to Riddle, and soon. I fear that if he is allowed to take over the Ministry, it will not be long before he makes known his true identity. But by then, it will be too late.”

There were murmurs from around the room; the shock and unrest was palpable.

“However, I believe we will be able to stop him, next week. On Thursday, to be exact.” Again the room was filled with shocked murmurs.

“And exactly how is this going to be accomplished?” Kingsley Shacklebolt's booming voice rose up over all the chaos.

“Next Thursday, I will expect all of you to meet us, in a soon to be disclosed location, to provide support while Harry faces off against Riddle, for the last time.” Dumbledore stood, straight and unmoving in the face of a raucous uproar as everyone in the room expressed their shock, excitement and disbelief.

After a few moments, he raised his hands in an attempt to quiet them down. “I will explain a little bit of the circumstances, if you would all quiet down.”

Everyone settled quickly, no one wanted to miss Dumbledore's explanation.

“To begin, I would like to introduce you all to Draco Malfoy,” Dumbledore gestured toward Draco, and then he had to hold up a hand again to quiet the murmurs. “Yes, I understand any concerns you may have, and yes, Draco is the only son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. However, he is as much a victim of this war as any of us, and has been treated like a pawn by Riddle himself. He was rescued from Riddle Manor and has lived here since that time, helping out as much as he is able. Indeed, his contributions have been great. Without them we would in no way be prepared for the showdown, next week.”

Dumbledore looked around, making sure everyone was listening. They were.

“The fact is, Mr. Malfoy is a Seer, and he has been given a vision of the confrontation between Harry and Tom Riddle. He is also Harry's second and his partner, and will be with Harry every moment of the battle. I expect each and every one of you to protect young Mr. Malfoy as you would protect Harry, with your life, if need be. Our victory depends on both of them.”

“I don't understand,” a voice called out from the back of the room. “Why does he have to be with Harry? If he's a Seer, isn't he better off staying out of the battle altogether?”

“A good point,” Dumbledore answered. “The truth is, Harry and Draco have formed a magical bond that gives Harry immense and almost inexhaustible power. He is the key to Harry's victory and therefore, to ours.”

“What bond? I haven't heard of any such bond, and I studied them specifically,” came another voice.

“The nature of the bond is a personal matter between Harry and Draco. Suffice it to say that it is extremely ancient and powerful.”

“Does this have anything to do with the second prophecy that was stolen from the Department of Mysteries?” Arthur Weasley asked quietly.

“Yes it does, though I will say no more,” Dumbledore lifted his hand again, to silence the meeting.

“I appreciate that you all have many questions, but I must ask you to trust me now as you have done in the past. It is a matter of utmost importance, and all will be revealed in time or as the boys will it. I will send a Patronus to each of you with the time and place of our gathering, next Thursday evening, and ask that each of you keep this information to yourselves.

“We are down to the final hour in this war. The outcome will be decided next Thursday, the same day that Harry Potter comes of age in our world, a very significant day indeed. I believe it is the day he, with the help of his bondmate, will deliver us all from Riddle's evil forever. Your patience and loyalty is much appreciated. Come on Thursday, ready to fight.”

He nodded at the assembled and added. “This meeting is adjourned. Good night.”

And, just like that, everyone began to filter out of the kitchen. A few stayed to chat or talk to Dumbledore, but mostly everyone accepted his words and moved on to prepare for the coming battle. There were few preparations to be made, and nothing more for Harry or the others to do except unwind and train. The showdown would be upon them, sooner than they realized.

*

 _June 1993_

Draco was excited. His second year of schooling was now complete and he was almost home. While he liked his school a lot, he liked going home more. Durmstrang was not a place where the students were indulged, and Draco was accustomed to being indulged. His mother always had treats and gifts ready for him when he arrived home.

Also, his twelfth birthday had just passed and Mother had told him that his birthday present was waiting for him at home. He was counting on a new broom, a Nimbus 2001, or even something better. Whatever it was, he couldn't wait.

His father was waiting for him at the train station as usual, but instead of the bemused smile he normally wore when Draco arrived, his face was grim. His lips were set in a stern line, and Draco couldn't help but wonder if he'd done something wrong. He couldn't think of anything, but the fact remained that his father was not happy. Draco kept quiet, unsure of how to act or what to do in the face of his father's displeasure. Instead, he walked quietly behind his father to the apparition point, his excitement dampened greatly.

When they arrived home, the reason for his father's mood became apparent. Draco was led into the parlour, where a handsome, dark haired young man waited for him, sipping his drink with an air of danger that set Draco on edge.

“Father?” Draco spoke up for the first time since his arrival, but was quickly silenced by a look from Lucius.

The man spoke then, with a finely cultured accent. “This is the boy then, Lucius?”

“Yes, my lord,” Lucius said, nodding his head. “This is Draco. Draco, this is...”

The other man interrupted him before he could finish his sentence.

“My name is Tom Riddle, Draco. I am very pleased to see you again.”

Draco shot a nervous look at his father before speaking. “Again, sir?” he asked, his voice embarrassingly shaky.

Tom Riddle eyed him appraisingly. “Yes. We met when you were but an infant, before I...went away.”

Draco didn't know how to respond so he stood silent instead. His gaze flickered between Riddle and his father. The tension in the room was palpable and despite his desire to find out just what was going on and just who Tom Riddle was, Draco dared not speak up. His father was stiff, his face expressionless, and Draco had learned at a young age that the lack of expression was never a good thing. When combined with Riddle's menacing presence and his father's deference to the man, it made Draco's stomach a mass of nerves. He felt like he was being tested, but for what he had no idea.

The moments passed silently, the air rife with tension, before Riddle finally spoke once more. “He's not very impressive, is he, Lucius?” The man asked, and Draco bristled. “How old is he again?”

“He is but twelve years old, my lord. He is barely more than a child,” Lucius' voice conveyed some of the insult that Draco was feeling.

“Yes, clearly,” Riddle took another sip of his drink before setting it down and standing, moving toward Draco like a predator.

“Draco,” he said, “you will be coming with me, today, to stay for a while.”

Draco's shocked eyes turned toward his father, but Lucius' face was still as expressionless as ever.

“I don't understand,” Draco said, suddenly terrified.

“It's really quite simple,” Riddle explained. “You have great potential Draco, and I want to help you reach that potential. To do that, I need to bring you with me, to Riddle Manor where you will be educated in so much more than they can provide at Durmstrang.”

“Does this mean I'm not going back to school next year?” Draco asked.

“Draco, I know this is confusing to you, but lord...Mr. Riddle has only your best interests at heart. You will be safe and well taken care of, so there is nothing to fear.”

“I...will I be able to see you?” Draco asked Lucius, whose lips tightened into a pale slash across his face.

“Of course you will,” Riddle replied. “Both your parents are more than welcome to visit you, when we are not otherwise engaged.” He smiled coldly, laying a hand on Draco's shoulder. Draco looked up at him, his stomach tight with nervousness. Lucius' face was still blank, it was clear that he was not happy, but he would do nothing to stop it. No matter what he did or said, no matter what he wanted, he was going with Tom Riddle, who ever he was.

*

 **  
_July 1997_   
**

“So, where are we going?” Harry asked Hermione as they sat down for breakfast on Monday morning. “I'm assuming you've got it all figured out.”

Ron snorted and rolled his eyes, and Draco chuckled. Hermione always had things figured out.

“Yes, actually,” Hermione said, sipping her hot tea while giving Ron an equally scalding look. “I thought we'd go to Whiteley's, on Queensway. I think it's safer for us to stay in one place, and everything we'll need is all there. They even have a cinema.”

“Good idea,” Harry agreed. “No wandering the streets, sounds good.”

“So, what is this place?” Ron asked. “Like Diagon Alley?”

“Something like that, yes,” Hermione said. “It's a huge building with all kinds of shops and restaurants all under one roof. The Muggles call it a shopping centre. It's really very convenient, especially for us.”

“What kind of shops?” Draco asked. “It's been so long, I hardly know what to expect.”

“All kinds. Clothing shops, bookstores, antique shops, specialty shops. Pretty much anything you could wish for. And the cinema.”

“I've never heard of that, what's a cinema?” Draco asked, getting a laugh from Harry and Hermione.

“It's like, pictures on a big screen, isn't it?” Ron said. “I remember my father saying something about that.”

“Essentially yes, but it's not moving pictures the way ours move. Each screen shows a film, which is usually a couple hours long, and it tells one story. You can see and hear everything that the storytellers want you to,” Hermione clarified.

“Like a big telly?” Ron asked.

“Along the same principle, yes. And well done using the word properly, Ron.” Hermione beamed at him and he beamed back. Harry met Draco's eye and they couldn't help but giggle.

“It opens at 10am, so we can go anytime now,” Hermione said, sending another look at the infamously late sleeper beside her. Ron blushed.

“Right then, let's get dressed,” Harry said, tugging Draco to their room. He had moved most of his clothes out of the room he'd shared with Ron, while Ron had done the same, moving his things in to Hermione's room. The only adult who slept there on a semi regular basis was Remus, and he seemed to leave them to their own devices more often than not. Harry was very grateful for that, though he didn't have the reasons Ron did for keeping his sleeping arrangement private.

“I can't wait,” Draco said, as he choose his outfit. “I even have all those galleons I got from our vault, so I'll be able to buy you something.” He beamed at Harry, who chuckled at his enthusiasm.

“Draco, Muggles don't use galleons. We'll have to switch them for pounds...I wonder if Hermione knows where we can do that. I don't want to risk another trip to Gringotts.” Harry had withdrawn and exchanged a large sum of galleons at the beginning of the summer, so he was set.

Fortunately, Hermione did in fact know where to switch Draco's money.

“Actually, Whiteley's has a small section of wizarding shops as well, I forgot to mention that. My parents used to take me there after it opened, and they thought I was mad because I could see the door where they just saw a wall. It works just like the barrier at King's Cross. We can floo in there and exchange our money before we head out into the Muggle portion.”

“Excellent,” Harry said. “Let's get going then.” He, Draco and Hermione were gathered in the kitchen, waiting on the slowest member of their group.

“Hurry up Ron!” Hermione yelled up the stairs, causing Harry and Draco to cringe. But it worked, Ron came barrelling down the stairs only moments later. They all followed Hermione through the Floo, having had Remus put a charm on them earlier that morning, and ended up in the large foyer of Whiteley's Wizarding Centre. It was split into laneways with signs telling them where to go. Hermione chose the one led to a Gringotts branch, with a sign that said, 'To Muggle London.' Draco squeezed Harry's hand, almost bouncing with excitement.

Exchanging their money didn't take long at all and soon they were standing on the Muggle side of the barrier. Draco and Ron both looked around with awe...Ron had been through Muggle London for catching the Hogwarts Express, but a shopping centre was a whole other matter.

Draco was rather overwhelmed with the space and the number of people, and spent the first few minutes clinging to Harry like a life preserver. It didn't last long; shortly after, he began tugging Harry about from this shop to that display, wanting to see it all at once. He didn't let go of Harry's hand though, unless he needed to. Harry found he didn't mind; he liked it that everyone who saw them knew Draco was his.

And sure enough, Draco got a ton of looks from girls and blokes alike. Quite a few girls even tried flirting with him, with Harry right beside him, holding his hand. Harry did his best not to glare at them, as Draco was having such a good time talking to the Muggles, but if Hermione's eye rolls were any indication, he was not terribly successful.

By the time the stopped for lunch, Harry had a pocket full of inconspicuously shrunken bags filled with clothes, books and various other items Draco had found fascinating. Ron was carrying quite a bit less, but then he had neither the cash nor the enthusiasm that Draco possessed.

“I thought we could see a show after lunch,” Hermione suggested. “There's an interesting looking film about aliens that we could see. It's packed with action, I've heard.”

The boys nodded, all too busy eating to disagree, but they followed Hermione to the cinema eagerly when they were finished. Harry bought their tickets, and paid for their snacks too. “Least I can do,” he said when Hermione tried to pay. “It was your idea to get us out of the house, and I appreciate it.”

“Fine, but I'm buying dinner,” Draco said, through a mouthful of popcorn. “This is great! What is it again?” he asked.

“It's popcorn,” Harry answered. "They dry the corn kernels and then heat them up and boom, they explode and that's what comes out.”

“Exploded corn?” Ron said, his eyes wide in amazement. “I want some!”

“Here's yours,” Hermione said, passing him over another bag. By the time they went looking for seats, they were loaded down with sweets, popcorn and drinks. Draco and Ron were so blown away by the previews, Harry had to cast a Muffliato on them to keep the other people in the theatre from getting them kicked out. Not needing a wand was something Harry was getting used to really quick. And sure, so he didn't get to pay attention to the whole movie, with Draco asking him questions constantly, but it was totally worth it to see the glow on his face when they left the theatre.

“That was amazing!” Draco exclaimed, bouncing up and down, tugging on Harry's arm in the process. “Can we go again? Is there another like that we can see?”

Harry laughed, catching Hermione's eyes and mouthing 'Thank you.' Making Draco this happy was worth it; he was like a child, viewing the world through innocent eyes, and making it all seem new to Harry in the process.

“Well, I don't want to sit through another show quite so soon,” Hermione said. “But why don't we go to HMV and see what we can find.”

“What's HMV?” Draco asked, but he followed her without complaint. Looking back, Harry thought perhaps it was a mistake, as they spent at least an hour there, while Ron and Draco tore through the store, asking questions and piling Harry up with purchases.

Finally Hermione called a stop to the insane shopping spree.

“This is getting out of hand,” she scolded Ron and Draco, taking a pile of dvd's from Harry and putting them back. “We won't have the time to watch any of these anyway, and you don't have a telly or a dvd machine. Besides, Muggle electronics don't work around too much magic, and we live in one of the most magical houses in Britain. Why don't we come back after it's all over, and we'll get the whole set up and pick out some dvds to watch. Alright?”

The boys agreed reluctantly, but they did have to admit, the next week was going to be busy with preparations, and with the outcome so uncertain, perhaps she was right.

They continued their tour, visiting any shop that caught their eye although they bought much less than they had in the morning. Before long it was time for dinner, and, once again, they followed Hermione, first to another clothing store, “It's rather a fancy restaurant, so I though we'd all get something nice to wear,” and then to an elegant restaurant for dinner.

After a satisfying dinner, they lingered over dessert, not wanting the night to end. Not only had they enjoyed a fun filled day, but Ron seemed to reach an understanding with Draco. By the end of dinner, they were laughing and joking as if they were old friends. Harry gave Hermione another grateful smile, and was determined to thank her more thoroughly later.

They piled into the Floo reluctantly, but still happy to be home.

“Now that was a long day,” Harry remarked as they slumped at the kitchen table.

“It was amazing!” Draco said. “I wanna see what I bought.” He started digging into Harry's pockets. But that had an effect on Harry that Draco had not intended. Harry captured Draco's hands and pulled them away from the vicinity of his crotch.

“Draco, you need to stop that now,” he said, giving Draco an intense look.

“But Harry, I want my...oh,” Draco said as he noticed the look in Harry's eyes.

“Maybe we should look through your bags in our room,” Harry suggested, keeping eye contact.

“Yeah, that might be a good idea,” Draco agreed, pulling back and getting up off the bench.

“Let's go take care of that right now,” Harry said, licking his lips and following Draco toward the door.

“You two are incorrigible,” Hermione called after them as they shouted good night to their friends, headed right for a whole different kind of relaxation.

“I think we should follow their example,” Ron said, grabbing Hermione around the waist.

“It is a good end to the day,” Hermione said, laughing and allowing her boyfriend to tug her toward their bed.

*

  


> Innocent and not so innocent hearts all over Britain will be breaking wide open this morning when they read this exclusive Daily Prophet article. One of, if not the most well loved and sought after wizards, none other than Harry Potter himself, was spotted out and about yesterday in Whiteley's, a Muggle shopping centre.
> 
> Captured in this photograph is the Boy Who Lived himself, accompanied by his long term friends, muggleborn witch, Hermione Granger, and pureblood wizard, Ronald Weasley. Much speculation has been tossed around over the years about the nature of Harry Potter's relationship with Ms. Granger, and, at long last, we now know the truth. Joining the trio was another young man, a very attractive blonde, seemingly of the same age as the others, who stayed by Mr. Potter's side as if attached there with a sticking charm.
> 
> The pictures tell the tale, dear readers, proving once and for all that Harry Potter will not be looking for a wife among the witches of Britain. Indeed, he will not be looking for a wife at all. Yes, loyal readers, Harry Potter is, apparently, a homosexual.
> 
> My trusty photographer and I followed Mr. Potter and his group for several hours, and it was immediately clear that the two were a couple. Rarely were they to be seen not holding hands, and they spent an inordinate amount of time gazing into each others eyes, flirting and kissing, to a degree that many loyal readers would consider quite scandalous. They simply could not keep their hands off each other. The couple were spotted joking and laughing as they made purchases in many shops, all of which were paid for by Mr. Potter, including a rather expensive dinner at one of the finest restaurants available. This reporter could not help but wonder if Mr. Potter's new companion is simply playing him along for the galleons, as a great many were spent on him, in the short time I observed them.
> 
> The name of Mr. Potter's companion is still a mystery, as well as the facts of where he came from, and how he has come to know Harry Potter so very well. Is he a wizard? This reporter speculates that he may be a Muggle, which would certainly explain the location at which they were spotted. Whoever he is, he seems to have captured the attention, if not the heart of the Boy Who Lived, much to the disappointment of witches of all ages.
> 
> Mr. Potter could not be reached for comment. Indeed, his current location is a closely guarded secret. Harry Potter and his friends have come under some suspicion over the years as regards their loyalty to the Ministry and its time honoured statutes. Potter's involvement with Albus Dumbledore is questionable at best. Dumbledore, currently Headmaster of Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, has been known to spout anti-Ministry rhetoric upon frequent occasions and has been accused of forming a League of Wizards. Entitled, ever so aptly, 'Dumbledore's Army', its sole purpose is to undermine the Minister of Magic, the honourable Cornelius Fudge, and to usurp the power of that esteemed position for himself, primarily through claims that the most feared Dark Wizard of our times, He Who Must Not Be Named, has returned and is hard at work among us.
> 
> Mr. Tom Riddle, recently named the Minister's Adviser and Caretaker of Pureblood Rights, is looking for any information that may be had about the location of Harry Potter or his friends. Mr. Potter's volatile nature is a matter of record, and Mr Riddle feels-and in this he is joined by many wise and upstanding witches and wizards, that Mr. Potter may well be a danger to himself, others and to our society as a whole.
> 
> Indeed, the perverse nature of his personal relationships cannot be denied, in a time when we are facing an ever increasing influx of Muggle blood and an expanding Muggle population, the procreation of children is paramount to the sustaining of our culture and, indeed, the perpetuation of magic itself. "Mr. Potter's disregard for the Ministry, its laws, his fellow magical folk, and the very future of the magical race, are so despicable and harmful that he must be contained," declares Tom Riddle, and this reporter must agree.
> 
> Any information leading to the apprehension of Mr. Potter will receive a reward, at the discretion of Mr. Riddle. Dear readers, I beseech you to come forward with any information you may have, and to shun Mr. Potter and his associates should you come across them. This behaviour must be stopped, for the good of us all.

  


*

“Ahh, there you are, Harry,” Remus said as Harry and Draco entered the kitchen for a late breakfast the next day. They had taken the opportunity to sleep in, as Remus had declared a day off. It appeared they weren't the only ones, as Ron and Hermione had yet to make an appearance.

“Good morning Remus,” Harry greeted, retrieving mugs for Draco and himself, pouring them tea while Draco began to make some toast, collecting butter, marmalade and his favorite strawberry jam.

“Well boys, it appears your trip yesterday was a success.”

Harry looked at Remus oddly, but nodded anyway. “It was amazing, yes. How'd you know?”

Remus' eyes crinkled with amusement. “You made the front page of the Prophet,” he replied, handing over the paper.

“What!” Harry exclaimed, taking the paper and turning it over to read. Draco moved closer to read it over his shoulder.

“That woman!” Harry exclaimed as he scanned through the article. “Not only does she invade my privacy and make ludicrous speculations about Draco, but she turns it into a Harry Potter bad, Tom Riddle good, propaganda piece!” He was working up into a right lather, with Remus chuckling to himself as he watched.

“At least the pictures are good,” Remus commented, grinning at Harry, who glared back. Draco took the paper from Harry and sat down to read it quietly.

“And that's another thing. I hate having my picture taken, even more when I don't know it's happening. Her speculation is ludicrous and her conclusions are utter shite. Not to mention all the brown nosing to Riddle, and the aspersions on Dumbledore. Who does she think she is?”

“You're right, the way she ended the article is horrid, and the content as concerns your relationship with Draco is none of their business, but you have to admit Harry, being who you are, you must certainly expect this kind of thing.” Remus commented.

“That's precisely why we went to a Muggle area. I wanted to avoid this altogether.” He sat down heavily on the bench, burying his head in his hands.

“I know you did,” Remus replied. “It was a good idea, and at least she didn't approach you.”

“Thank Merlin for that,” Harry said grimly. “Or I may have hexed her in the middle of Muggle central and that would not have gone over well with the Ministry.”

“Indeed not,” Remus agreed.

“Draco, what do you think about...Draco?” Harry turned to ask Draco's opinion, only to find his boyfriend sitting pale and unmoving beside him, the paper crumpling in his clenched fists.

“Draco, what's wrong?” Harry asked, taking the paper from him and pulling Draco close.

“That, what she did, she told everyone that you're gay,” Draco said in a whisper, swallowing heavily and not meeting Harry's eyes.

“I know.”

“But, they're all going to hate you now,” Draco continued, looking up at Harry through eyes filled with fear and doubt. “The purebloods won't take this lightly Harry, they really do hate anything that is not the norm. I mean, such a thing is never even spoken of. I had no idea a boy could love another boy until I met you.”

“But your upbringing was hardly usual,” Harry said, rubbing Draco's back.

“That doesn't matter,” Draco insisted. “I may have been isolated, but I was taught what it means to be a good wizard, and that included marrying a girl of good parentage and breeding, not to mention social standing, and fathering at least one heir for the family. Love is irrelevant, and following your heart is unheard of.”

“Draco, I don't care about their opinions,” Harry reassured him, pulling his distraught boyfriend even closer. “Did you read the whole article? They all hate me already, well, it's a love/hate thing mainly, they may put me on the 'Boy Who Lived' pedestal, but they all think I'm mad and fear me. Being gay won't change that, for the better or worse, and I think it's a good thing, really.”

“How could this possibly be a good thing?” Draco asked.

“Well, I won't have to come out after Riddle is gone, now will I? Neither will you, assuming you still want to be with me if the whole world knows.”

“Of course I will!” Draco insisted.

“Then why are you so quick to believe that I don't want everyone to know about us?” Harry asked. “I'm proud to be your boyfriend, and I plan to keep you as long as you'll stay...I don't care what anyone else thinks, certainly not Rita Skeeter and her Riddle-loving sycophants.”

“Are you sure?” Draco asked again, still unconvinced.

“Of course I'm sure,” Harry said, kissing the top of his head. “Besides, we're bonded, aren't we? I'm not going anywhere, okay?”

“Okay,” Draco said. “And you don't care that they all know?”

Harry chuckled and turned to their observer. “Remus, have I ever cared about what anyone has thought about me?”

“Definitely not,” Remus confirmed. “And there have been much worse articles than this written about you.”

Draco nodded, taking it all in. “Well, we can be sure Riddle and my parents know where I am now,” he said wryly. Harry and Remus chuckled.

“Yes, I'm sure they do. Now your parents will know you're safe, and Riddle is no doubt furious, but we'll be dealing with him soon enough.”

He kissed Draco softly on the lips, running his fingers across Draco's jaw. “It'll be alright, I promise.”

Draco nodded his understanding and kissed Harry back, just as Ron and Hermione entered the room.

“Morning all,” Ron bellowed, clapping Harry on the back and sitting down heavily on the bench. “I'm starved, what's for breakfast?”

“Propaganda,” Remus replied, as Hermione picked up the slightly crumpled copy of the Daily Prophet.

“That bitch!” Hermione exclaimed when she saw the article. She paused a moment, before looking up at Harry and Draco with a grin. “Great pictures, though.”

*

When Lucius Malfoy was summoned to Riddle Manor that morning, he had no doubts as to why. Seeing Draco on the front page of the Daily Prophet had come as quite the shock, though the fact that he was with Harry Potter was much less so. Still, Riddle was no doubt furious about it, and Lucius felt certain that he was about to be punished for the sins of his son.

He arrived and was shown into Riddle's great room immediately.

“Well, Lucius,” Riddle said, gesturing him to a seat. “Your promptness is appreciated.”

“Yes, my lord,” Lucius inclined his head in acknowledgement.

“I suppose you know why you are here, do you not?” Riddle's voice was cold, a perfect match to the ice in his eyes.

“Yes, my lord,” Lucius repeated.

“This!” Riddle held up the Daily Prophet. On it Lucius could see his son, the best accomplishment of his life, snogging Harry Potter for all to see. Lucius bowed his head in shame.

“Your despicable son has indeed run off with Dumbledore's little golden boy. Not only has he shown his utter disloyalty to me and his disregard for all I have done for him, he has shown his lack of moral character, to debase himself in such a repulsive way.”

Lucius remained silent. There would be no deflecting of Riddle's wrath, it must all come down on him. 

“There can be no one else to blame but yourself, Lucius.” Riddle stood above him and threw the newspaper in his face viciously. “You were responsible for the boy, to raise him in a manner properly befitting his station and his future at my side. To train him in behaviour proper for a pureblood. Instead, he has turned his back on it all, allowing himself to become a whore for an upstart pretender. Harry Potter is nothing more than what Dumbledore makes him. He is a fake, and the boy has signed your fate by choosing betray his family.”

“I am sorry, my lord.”

“Silence!” Riddle roared, his rage twisting his features until he looked far too much like the Voldemort of old for Lucius' peace of mind.

“He has rejected your teachings Lucius, and the only explanation for that is that you did not teach him well enough. You spoiled him and pampered him, you allowed your wife to turn him into a creature whose only use is to be a toy to greater men. Yet you did not even teach him the discernment needed to choose his master wisely.

“You have failed him, Lucius, and in doing so, you have failed me. Once my brightest star, you have fallen so far, I can barely stand to look at you.”

Riddle paced in front of Lucius' chair for a few long moments, his silent contemplation somehow more chilling than the fire of anger.

“You may still have some use to me, though. This turn of events is most troubling. I had hoped that I need not resort to such desperate measures, but it appears I must again secure the means to retain my immortality. And you will help me achieve this. I will grant you your life, and that of your wife, but do not doubt, Lucius Malfoy, that should I stumble across your misbegotten spawn, I will waste no time in disposing of it.”

Lucius swallowed heavily. “I understand, my lord.”

“Should you not come when summoned, I will not keep my promise, Lucius. You would do well to heed my warning.”

Lucius nodded, bowing his head in supplication.

“Fine, you may go,” Riddle said, and Lucius began to get out of the chair, stunned and baffled that he was being dismissed without any actual punishment. He assumed too quickly in fact, as Riddle stopped him with one word.

“ _Crucio_!” the spell was cast powerfully and quickly, with no evasion possible. Lucius crumpled to the floor in agony, every synapse in his body screaming in pain at the wrongness of it.

He came back to himself moments later, panting, unable to clear his head or move forward, but determined to do so. He had seen this game played many times, Riddle would tease and torture his wayward minion until the poor sod could drag himself out of the room and beyond the reach of Riddle's wrath. Some made it, and some did not. Lucius was determined that he would be one of the ones to make it out alive. A plan was forming in his mind, the only way he could save his wife. He knew that despite assurances to the contrary, Riddle would kill them both before long. Lucius would take his punishment, head held high like a proper Malfoy, if only he could free his wife from the burden of his bad choices. Draco had already taken his freedom and Lucius was certain that with Potter he would be safe.

“ _Crucio_!” The spell took him again, wiping out all thought but the immediacy of the pain, and the desperate need to survive. When the spell ended again, Lucius was ready. He pulled himself forward, as quickly as he could, attempting to gain his feet, to close the distance to the door that much quicker, but before he was able, Riddle cast once again.

It took Lucius Malfoy six more attempts before he was able to pull his shaking, pain stricken body across the threshold and out of sight.

There he rested, trying to regain the air he needed to breathe, the energy to stand and run for his life, for the life of the woman he loved. Then he heard Riddle speak again, and what he overheard would give him the strength to go on, and the collateral needed to secure Narcissa's life.

*

Lucius Malfoy wasted no time in implementing his plan. He went immediately to Hogwarts, to beg an audience with Albus Dumbledore, who was the only person in a position to help him. He wasn't honestly surprised at how quickly he was shown through the gates and into the Headmaster's office.

“Mr. Malfoy,” Dumbledore greeted, gesturing for Lucius to take a seat. “Lemon drop?”

“No thank you,” Lucius said stiffly, sinking gratefully into the chair.

“I must admit it's a surprise to see you here.”

“I imagine it is,” Lucius replied. “I had not anticipated the need, but I cannot go blindly on, anymore.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Dumbledore replied.

“I...is it safe to assume that Draco is safe and well cared for under your protection?” Lucius had not known how desperate he was for news of Draco until he found himself speaking the question. He had failed his son indeed, but not in the way Riddle thought.

“He is, and very happy as well.” Dumbledore smiled and Lucius felt something loosen in his chest. He took a deep breath and dove in.

“I am here to offer some information, in exchange for protection,” Lucius said.

“For yourself and Narcissa?” Dumbledore asked. “Draco has no need of such an arrangement, he is free to make his own choices, which I believe he has already done.”

“Indeed,” Lucius ground out. He may be pleased to know that Draco was well and happy, but that didn't mean he had to like his son's relationship with Harry Potter.

“But the protection I desire is for Narcissa alone. She has never received the Dark Mark, and she does not agree with my decision to support Riddle.”

“Not for yourself?” Dumbledore questioned.

“I will stand up and accept the cost of my actions. Nothing you or the Ministry could do will be worse than what Riddle has planned.”

Dumbledore nodded acknowledgement, so Lucius continued. “Sir, are you aware of the true identity of Tom Riddle?”

Dumbledore lifted a sceptical brow. “I am well aware that Tom Riddle is in fact, Lord Voldemort. I am also aware of his parentage, something I doubt yourself and your fellow Death Eaters are aware.”

“And that would be?” Lucius asked.

“Before I get into that, I would like to hear what you have come to tell me,” Dumbledore changed the subject proficiently, and Lucius had no recourse but to follow.

“As a result of this morning's Daily Prophet, I was summoned to Riddle Manor to receive the wrath of its master. Indeed, he did not disappoint, and that punishment is the reason for my...stiffness of movement.”

“Do you wish for me to call Madam Pomfrey, with a pain reliever?”

“No thank you,” Lucius replied. “It is mine to bear, though I do not do so out of loyalty to Tom Riddle, but as penance for what I have done to Draco.”

“I understand,” Dumbledore said. “Do go on.”

“After I had removed myself from Riddle's presence, I remained outside the room in an attempt to compose myself, and I overheard his plans for me. I had already determined that I could not allow Narcissa to remain at his mercy, but after overhearing his plans, I determined that coming to you was the only feasible option.”

“Why did you not go to the Aurors?” Dumbledore asked.

Lucius scoffed. “You know as well as I that the Ministry is not really concerned with apprehending Tom Riddle. Indeed, very few believe that Voldemort has returned and almost none are aware that Tom Riddle is Voldemort. I am well aware that you and your associates are the real resistance, and the only group with the power to protect my wife, as you are already protecting my son.”

“Let me be clear, Lucius,” Dumbledore leaned forward on the desk, his face solemn. “Draco is an innocent. He is a victim of Riddle, as much as Harry Potter himself. He remains with Harry because he chooses to do so, and that position will not change unless he should desire it. Nothing you or your wife have done will endanger Draco's safety.”

“Thanks you, sir,” Lucius replied. “I am very grateful for that.”

“Yes,” Dumbledore sat back again. “Now please, tell what what you came here to say.”

Lucius took a deep breath, holding his head high as he began to speak. “This Thursday evening, Riddle intends to kill me, to facilitate the creation of an artifact that will secure his immortality. He intends to do this at Godric's Hollow, I suppose in an act of sentimentality. To perform this ritual in the place where he was defeated by the infant Harry Potter, on the day of his birth, well suits Riddle's flair for the morbid and dramatic.”

“It does indeed,” Dumbledore agreed.

“I have come to you because you have the power to stop it. I must be frank, my unease with Riddle has been growing steadily, more so since he informed me that he'd intended to bind my son to him in order to handicap Draco's magic and twist it for his own use. Before he was defeated fifteen years ago, he was becoming increasingly unstable, prone to fits of madness, and I fear that he is becoming so again. While I agree with many of his tenets, I can no longer stand by while he wreacks his particular brand of havoc on the wizarding world in general and my family in particular. He must be stopped.”

“I happen to agree,” Dumbledore said. “And I am very grateful for this information. I will ensure that something is done about it, and I can promise the safety of your wife, if she would be willing to go into hiding. The safest place I can offer her is the very same place that Draco is residing, in fact. If she would be willing.”

“I am sure she would,” Lucius admitted. “I have yet to speak with her, I came directly here after leaving Riddle Manor.”

“I understand,” Dumbledore said. “If there is nothing else?” Lucius shook his head, so Dumbledore continued.

“I will make certain that we take steps to apprehend Riddle this coming Thursday, and I will, with your permission, inform Draco of your decision.”

Lucius nodded his agreement. “I would be most grateful.”

“Excellent. You may inform Narcissa that, if and when she wishes, she may simply come here to see me, and I will remove her to our safe house.”

“Thank you Headmaster, I am eternally grateful for your assistance.”

“And I am much appreciative of your information. I am also very pleased that you have realized the damage being wrought by Riddle, as much now as when he was known as Lord Voldemort. And, when one considers his origins, it is most distressing to consider the implications.”

“You said you would tell me what you know of Riddle,” Lucius reminded, but Dumbledore had not forgotten.

“I recall. I am aware that Riddle had claimed pureblood supremacy for himself, but the truth is that he is a mere halfblood. He is the progeny of one Merope Gaunt, a pureblood witch, though her family had long since fallen into madness, and a Muggle by the name of Thomas Riddle.”

“Impossible,” Lucius said, utterly astounded.

“It is quite possible in fact, and is very true,” Dumbledore said. “Riddle is a halfblood, who was raised in a Muggle orphanage, as his father, once free of the love potion that Merope had dosed him with, denied her and her unborn child. She then died after birthing her son, whom she named Tom Marvolo Riddle, after her father and his.”

Dumbledore continued the tale, as Lucius boggled at the implications.

“I myself was the one to remove a young Tom Riddle from the orphanage, and I brought him here to Hogwarts, as I would any magical child of the appropriate age."

“Unbelievable,” Lucius remarked. “He is the son of a Muggle?”

“He is indeed,” Dumbledore concluded.

“If I was not completely set on my course, this would certainly ensure it,” Lucius replied. “Thank you for telling me. It makes my betrayal seem less...painful, although I am mortified now to have followed him, that I almost let him ruin my son in pursuit of power.”

“I imagine so,” Dumbledore said. “If you change your mind Lucius, you are welcome to join Narcissa at the safe house.”

“Thank you, but I must take responsibility for my actions.”

“If you insist. Thank you for coming to me Lucius, the information is most helpful. You may use the floo to return to Malfoy Manor, if you wish.”

“I do,” Lucius pulled himself out of the chair, his muscles protesting. “Thank you for everything, Headmaster.” Lucius reached out and offered his hand, which Dumbledore took without hesitation.

“I know it is not necessary, but thank you for protecting Draco as well. Narcissa will be in touch.”

“You are welcome, Lucius. Good luck.”

Lucius nodded, before disappearing into the Floo. Now he had to tell Narcissa about what he had done, and take the blame, as he should.

*

On Wednesday just before lunch, Remus summoned Harry and Draco from the library to the kitchen, to find Dumbledore waiting for them.

“Good afternoon boys,” he greeted them as they sat across from him at the kitchen table.

“Professor,” replied Draco.

“We weren't expecting to see you until tomorrow,” Harry said.

“Nor was I expecting to be here,” said Dumbledore. “But I received an unexpected visitor last night, and our discussion required that I keep you informed.”

“Really? Who?” Harry asked.

“It was Lucius Malfoy,” Dumbledore replied, watching closely for their reactions.

Harry stared at him for a moment before turning to see Draco's reaction.

“My father,” Draco whispered. “What did he want?”

“That was most surprising. He saw the article in the Daily Prophet and wanted to be assured that you were well.”

Draco glanced between them, but didn't say anything.

“He also wished to exchange some information for protection. I told him that your safety does not rely on his actions, only on your own and that you were free to make your own choices. However, it was not only you he was concerned about, but your mother.”

Draco just sat, frozen, looking ahead for a few moments before declaring, “That's a first.”

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, but did not comment. Harry took Draco's hand and entwined their fingers, rubbing Draco's wrist with his thumb. Finally Dumbledore broke the silence.

“Be that as it may, he did provide me with critical information. While some of it was not new to us, the rest filled in a few details we were unaware of.”

“I...that's interesting,” Draco said.

“It is indeed. Lucius confirmed that Riddle will be at Godric's Hollow the evening of the 31st, and that his intention is to kill Lucius and create a new Horcrux from his murder.”

That got Draco's attention. “No, that's...he can't kill father, not...I'm angry at him, but,” Draco trailed off, shutting down and leaning into Harry.

“And he doesn't want protection for himself?” Harry asked.

“No, he doesn't,” Dumbledore confirmed. “He told me that his actions have warranted his punishment and he will stand up and face the consequences like a proper Malfoy.”

Draco shuddered, so Harry wrapped an arm around him, holding him close as Draco tucked his head into Harry's neck.

“So he intends to just let Riddle kill him?”

“I believe he intends to show up, to keep his dignity and pride, but is also expecting us to arrive and apprehend Riddle before he can go through with it. Which is exactly what we intend to do.”

“Well, we'd already planned to be there,” Harry agreed.

“And Riddle cannot be allowed to create another Horcrux. Also, despite his grave mistake of following Riddle and the crimes he has committed in the pursuit of that, Lucius Malfoy is a human being, and he, just as every other, has intrinsic value. We cannot allow Riddle to murder him, despite Lucius' intent to 'man up,' as it were.”

“So nothing has changed, then,” Harry said.

“Nothing about our plan to meet and confront Riddle on Thursday has changed,” Dumbledore agreed. “But this does change a great deal. Lucius is ashamed and regretful of his actions and choices, and he is very concerned about his son. Despite it coming so very late, it shows that he is willing to admit when he is wrong, and face the consequences head on instead of running, which is the more appealing option to some.”

Dumbledore was quiet for a moment before reaching across the table to place a hand over Draco's.

“He loves you very much, Draco. I know you do not feel that love at the moment, and indeed, his choices in regards to you have not demonstrated that, but he is regretful and that, I believe, shows his mind and heart better than anything that has come before. Give him a chance, I do believe he will not disappoint you again.”

“Thank you sir,” Draco replied in a whisper. “What about my mother?”

“I am merely waiting for her to arrive at Hogwarts, and from there she will be brought here.”

“I understand. Thank you.”

“You are very welcome, my boy. Now, if you don't mind, there is still much planning to do. I will see you both on Thursday morning.” He stood and swirled back to Hogwarts through the Floo, leaving Harry holding a distraught Draco.

“Why now?” Draco said solemnly. “Why now that his life is in danger, not when Riddle was threatening mine?”

“I don't know,” Harry replied. “Perhaps because he did not think your life was in danger, or he was still under thrall to Riddle. All you can do is ask him, when you get the chance.”

“I will, if I ever do.”

“You can also go home, when this is all over, if you wish. Even if your father is sent to Azkaban, your mother will still be free.”

“Yes,” Draco agreed, looking up to meet Harry's eyes for the first time since they'd entered the kitchen. “But how many times do I have to tell you that my place is here, at your side? I would love to spend time with Mother, and will visit her often as I have the opportunity, but I belong where ever you are, Harry. Ending Riddle will not change that.”

“Alright,” Harry said, smiling down at Draco, who was looking much better. “I'll do my best to remember that.”

“You'd better,” Draco said, before reaching up and pulling Harry down for a kiss.

*

The night before Harry's birthday, they had a quiet dinner, with just the four of them. There were plans for a birthday luncheon the next day, before they headed out as a group to face off with Tom Riddle. Harry was excited and terrified, and exceptionally jumpy. The next day was his seventeenth birthday, and he wasn't convinced he would live to see his eighteenth.

He was pacing the room, while Draco watched placidly from the bed. He'd tried to lie down earlier, but his mind was racing and his body too full of nervous energy to rest. There was simply too much riding on his actions the next day and he could admit even to himself that he was over thinking it.

“You know, there's nothing you could have trained at that would leave you better prepared,” Draco commented.

“I know.”

“And we've researched absolutely everything we could to make sure it'll work,” he added.

“I know.”

“And you're driving me crazy with all this pacing,” Draco stood up from the bed, and began to chase Harry down. It didn't take long as the room was not very big.

“Draco, let me go,” Harry said, glaring at his boyfriend as Draco cornered him between the dresser and the wall.

“You're just going to exhaust yourself, and then you won't be at your best tomorrow,” Draco said, moving close and running his hands up Harry's chest, under his shirt. Harry shivered.

“I know, but I just can't relax,” Harry admitted, sighing.

“Then perhaps I can think of a way to relax you,” Draco replied, pressing his body against Harry's, his intent unmistakeable.

“I'm not sure I'm in the mood,” Harry tried to slide out from between Draco's arms, but Draco was not letting go that easily.

“Since when are you not in the mood?” Draco asked sceptically. “Come to bed, I'm sure I can do something to change your mood.”

“Alright,” Harry agreed at last. “But I make no promises.”

“Fair enough,” Draco said, tugging Harry's t-shirt over his head, before doing the same with his own. He manoeuvred Harry backwards until he could go no further, then pushed him down onto his back.

“Scoot up,” he commanded, and Harry obeyed. Draco climbed on top of him, pressing his naked chest against Harry's as he brought their lips together, kissing him softly before sliding his tongue into Harry's willing mouth.

They tugged each others clothes off as Draco kissed Harry until he was breathless. He shifted to the side, sucking his way down Harry's neck, not leaving any marks until he reached his collarbone, where he sucked deeply, bringing the blood to the skin deliberately. Then he continued downwards, leaving a trail of wet skin and love bites as he went. He spent particular time on Harry's sensitive hipbones, avoiding his cock which was now hard despite Harry's previous protests.

“Draco, that's wonderful,” Harry sighed, brushing his hands over Draco's hair, but not urging him further. He let Draco do what he wanted to, no pressure. But Draco was not in the mood to waste any time.

“Lift your hips,” he said after he had unfastened Harry's jeans, using the tilt of Harry's hips to pull them down all the way. He stripped Harry naked, taking everything off in one long pull. Leaning in, he licked his way around Harry's navel, torturing him with feather light licks on his hipbones again before taking the tip of Harry's cock into his mouth and sucking, the suddenness of the move making Harry arch off the bed with a high pitched moan.

“Mmm,” Draco hummed around the tip, loving the way Harry's body quivered with pleasure. He bobbed his head, sucking Harry down before letting up again, teasing him to the edge and back again over and over.

“Draco, please,” Harry begged, trying to push Draco down further and pull him away at the same time. “Please,” he pleaded again, groaning in relief and disappointment when Draco pulled off. He sat back on his heels, tracing his fingers over the sensitive muscles on Harry's inner thighs.

“Do you want me, Harry?” Draco asked teasingly, smirking when Harry lifted his head and glared at Draco.

“Yes, dammit,” Harry bit out. “You little tease, come here.” He reached down and captured Draco's hands, pulling him upward until their lips met, but Draco pulled back far too soon for Harry's liking.

“I'm just getting naked, calm down,” Draco said, at Harry's groan of complaint. He stripped his trousers and pants off, taking his socks at the same time, then crawled back on top of Harry, his cock straining eagerly upward.

“Naked yes, I love it when you're naked,” Harry agreed, letting his hands roam all over Draco's body, pulling him down for a kiss as he pressed his hips up to gain friction against his cock.

“ _Accio_ lube,” Draco said, grinning like a loon when the lube leapt out of it's drawer and into his hand.

“You like that, do you?” Harry asked. Draco sat up, moving down so he had a good view of Harry's cock, which he slathered with lube, stroking him just enough to spread it around.

“Harry, I was basically without magic for five years. With no wand and no you, I couldn't even make a Lumos work.”

“No worries about that, anymore,” Harry said, clutching Draco's hips as his boyfriend moved into place over his slickened cock.

“No, no worries at all,” Draco answered, bracing himself on Harry's chest with one hand while the other held Harry's cock in place. Then he sat down, sinking on to Harry's cock and pulling a moan from both of them.

"Draco...you're so tight,” Harry gasped, rotating his hips as Draco settled himself, both hands pressed to Harry's chest as Harry's hands roamed his back and shoulders. Draco sighed in contentment before lifting his hips up, allowing Harry to slip almost all the way out before sliding back down again. No words were needed for this, just groping hands and straining bodies as Draco continued to take Harry in and out.

Harry helped him along, thrusting and twisting until he knew by Draco's gasps that he had hit the right spot. They found a rhythm, Harry nudging Draco's prostate and Draco clenching tighter around Harry's cock with every brush across it.

“Harry, Harry,” Draco chanted, when he felt is orgasm approaching. “Harry, _harder_ ,” he said, gasping when Harry did as he asked, pushing up harder and faster, his fingers gripping Draco's hips so tight he'd be left with round bruises to decorate his pale skin.

“Yeah, that's it,” Harry choked out, shuddering under Draco as he came, losing all his rhythm before slumping back on the bed, boneless and sated.

“No fair,” Draco whined, still rocking back and forth as his cock leaked all over Harry's stomach.

“S'okay,” Harry said, pulling Draco forward and off his softening cock and up, until Draco was sitting high enough on his chest so that he could reach back and thrust his fingers inside Draco's loose passage and rub his prostate. He gripped Draco's cock and stroked roughly, rubbing in time with his strokes until Draco came with a grunt, splattering his release all the way into Harry's hair, though most of it ended up on his lips, or dripping off his chin.

Draco leaned forward to kiss him, licking the come off his chin before thrusting his tongue in. Harry kissed him back without hesitation, though the pungent taste of Draco between them was rather disconcerting.

“That's totally disgusting and insanely hot,” Harry commented when they pulled back to breathe.

“I know,” Draco laughed. “I can't believe I did that.”

“It was unexpected, but I liked it,” Harry said, waggling his brows at Draco.

Draco threw his head back and laughed, before sliding to the side and laying beside him on the bed.

“Clean us up, would you?” he said, and Harry obeyed, murmuring 'scourgify.' The tingle was immediate and powerful.

“You have nothing to worry about,” Draco said, pulling the blanket over them and snuggling close. “Even when you murmur the spells, they're powerful.”

Harry lifted his head, dragging his fingers across Draco's cheek reverently. “As long as I have you with me.”

“I'll always be with you,” Draco said, leaning in to kiss Harry softly. They settled together, warm and comfortable. They slipped into a sated sleep, finally at peace.

*

They woke up the morning of Harry's birthday well rested and happy. Harry figured he might as well spend the morning in sated bliss, since it may be his last. The thought was sobering, so Harry brushed it aside. Instead, he focused on the things he had control over, the most important of which was Draco's morning erection, only inches from his hand. Harry smirked and ducked under the blankets to wake Draco up the best way he knew how.

It was almost lunch by the time they made it downstairs for breakfast. Remus merely gave their flushed faces and sappy smiles an amused look, while Ron snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Happy birthday, Harry,” Hermione said happily. “How are you feeling?”

“The way anyone who woke up in bed with Draco would feel,” Harry commented, wrapping his arms around Draco's waist from behind and kissing his neck. “Like the luckiest man alive.”

“Better you than me,” Ron said, earning a smack from Hermione.

“You're such a sap,” Draco said, but he turned his head and accepted a kiss. “Now leave me alone, I'm hungry,” he said, pushing Harry away with a laugh.

They tucked in heartily, the atmosphere at odds with the seriousness of their coming task, but the time for seriousness was fast approaching. They spent the afternoon chatting, then by three o'clock, the house had filled up with people wishing Harry a happy birthday. Every member of the Weasley family was there, and Harry felt a twinge of loss for Ginny and Bill. Their memory was one more reason why Harry needed to succeed today. Many order members were there also, and the large group filled the house with laughter and chattering voices. Everyone was nervous but they were doing a fine job covering it up, choosing to celebrate life before they went to battle.

Harry despised being the center of attention as much as he ever had but Draco, once he had become accustomed to the sheer volume of people, took to it like he was born to be in the spotlight. And perhaps he was, he was certainly made for Harry, and Harry supposed that someone had to make nice in public. Besides, Draco's love of the spotlight took some of the pressure off Harry, and he was able to sit back and enjoy his party more.

He loved watching Draco entertain, especially when he was talking about something he was passionate about. His gestures became more expressive and his voice took on an urgency that made Harry want to drag him to bed. Instead he just sat back and watched, his chest filling with an ache that he could only describe as love.

There was plenty of food, mostly provided by Molly Weasley and after they had eaten Harry was inundated by a plethora of gifts. Books, clothes, magical items, gag gifts...notably from Fred and George, and a card from Draco with an IOU for a gift to be opened in private. Harry kissed him, full on the lips and was unable to hold back from slipping him some tongue, to the delight of half the room and the disgust of the other. But they all ended up laughing, and Harry's cock twitched at the sight of Draco's fetching blush. If there was ever a reason to try his hardest to make it out of this alive, the anticipation of opening Draco's gift was more than enough.

Far too soon, the evening waned and as the sky darkened the mood of the crowd sobered. More Order members were arriving and people huddled together in smaller groups, talking quietly, mentally preparing for the coming fight. Just after ten o'clock, Dumbledore called everyone together, to speak a few words before they left.

"I want to thank you all for coming this evening,” he began. “Our task is as vital as it is dangerous, and some of you may be injured or killed in the pursuit of success. Walking bravely into the face of possible death is not something I wish to ask of any of you. But if I do not, Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort himself, will surely take over the Ministry, and the entire wizarding world. From there he will spread his wrath and dominance over all of Britain before moving on to the rest of the world.

“He must be stopped. Prophecy declares that the only person who will be successful is a young man, barely of age. Fate is not fair when it chooses its champions, but Harry has acquitted himself exceptionally, and I have no doubts about his commitment to his task.

“A second, lesser known prophecy declares that Draco Malfoy, the White Dragon, will give Harry the power to accomplish this task. As we have discovered in the past few weeks, this prophecy is genuine, as their love for one another has formed a bond between them that has brought out a power in Harry that is unexpected and profound. We can only assume that the first prophecy is as genuine as the second and as such, the task of defeating Tom Riddle falls to him. I ask each and every one of you to do everything in your power to protect Harry and Draco, to keep them from being separated, and to do whatever necessary to bring them safely to the confrontation with Riddle.

“This is a lot to ask of you, a lot for you to trust in without certainty. Yet I must ask you to trust me, as you ever have and with luck we will all come out together on the other side.”

He paused and surveyed the solemn group, willing them the strength to face their tasks without fear.

“We will begin departing immediately. Each of you is aware of your designated apparition points. I urge you all to use stealth and awareness as your main weapons. Good luck.”

With a nod, he dismissed them, and the crowd broke up as people began wandering toward the door. Harry took the opportunity to pull Draco through the crowd, barricading them into their room, for a few short moments of peace before they faced their destiny.

*

 **  
_September 1981_   
**

“Malfoy!” Lord Voldemort bellowed from the entrance hall of Malfoy Manor. Beside the tall imposing figure of the Dark Lord, a smaller man stood cowering in fear. He had been sure his information would please Voldemort, but it seemed to throw him into a furious panic instead.

“Lucius Malfoy!” he called again, his impatience obvious.

A door opened down the corridor, and a well groomed Lucius stepped into the foyer. “Yes my lord,” he said humbly, bowing his head in deference.

“I will speak with you, Malfoy,” Voldemort said, moving down the corridor to the study. “Now.”

“Yes my lord,” Malfoy agreed, looking disdainfully at the man cowering by the door.

“Matthews, you too,” Voldemort commanded, causing the man to jump. He shuffled forward, reluctantly following the other men.

Voldemort settled in the largest, plushest armchair in the room, waving Matthews to a smaller, much less comfortable seat while Lucius poured them drinks.

“How may I serve you, my lord?” Lucius said, once they were all settled with their glasses, Matthews toying nervously with his rather than drinking it.

“It's not what you can do for me, Lucius,” Voldemort said. “It's your son who interests me at the moment.”

Lucius' already pale face whitened. “My son,” he said apprehensively. “Is a mere child. What possible use can he be to you, my lord?”

“What use indeed,” Voldemort replied, half to himself. “Matthews here has overheard something of great interest to our cause. As you are aware, there is a prophecy regarding the so called 'Chosen One' who will have the power to defeat me. A ludicrous claim, but nonetheless, I am planning the strike even now.”

“Strike?” Lucius said. “You have determined the identity of the boy, then?”

“That is a detail you need not concern yourself with,” Voldemort replied. “A plan is in place for both brats, just to be safe. But this is not your concern.”

Voldemort took a sip of his whiskey, nodding to the still very nervous Matthews, who had yet to touch his drink. “Another prophecy has been brought to my attention, one that involves another. I have spent much time determining the validity of this prophecy and have come to an inescapable conclusion.”

Lucius swallowed, while Matthews seemed to become aware of the alcohol he was holding, and drank it down in one shot.

“And what conclusion is that, my lord?” Lucius' face was paler than seemed possible.

“That your son, very aptly named, I might add, is the boy this second prophecy refers to. The 'White Dragon,' if you will.” Voldemort took another sip, eyeing Lucius unblinkingly.

“I do not understand,” Lucius said, as the import of the Dark Lord's words began in sink in.

“The White Dragon it is said, will possess the power without which the Chosen One cannot defeat me. While I am confident I will be able to destroy the brat, I feel the need for further reassurance.”

Lucius put his glass down with a shaky hand. “You mean to...my son,” he was beginning to babble as panic set in.

“Oh Lucius, do relax. I have no intention of harming your boy, but I cannot allow him to...fall into the wrong hands, as it were.” Voldemort finished his drink, placing the glass on the table beside the chair. He rose, looking down at Lucius. “I am taking him.”

“You, what?” Lucius said, standing up as well. “Taking him? Where, why? There is no reason to take him from his mother, surely,” he pleaded, but Voldemort interrupted him.

“There is every reason. I must be certain the boy is raised with the proper attitude in regards to me.”

“I can assure you my lord, that he will be.”

Voldemort held up a hand to silence Lucius. “I intend to bond with him, at the time of his seventeenth birthday to ensure that whatever power he possesses will become mine. It matters not that the 'Chosen One' will be long dead. His power will be mine!” Voldemort was a powerful wizard indeed, and Lucius was sworn to obey him. But his only son, still a baby, was not a thing that was easy to give up.

“My lord, I am certain that we can come to a compromise,” Lucius said, but Voldemort would not hear it.

“Matthews, go get the boy,” Voldemort commanded. Matthews put his glass down and all but dashed out of the room, in search of Draco.

“My lord, please, he's just a baby. Surely there is something that will satisfy you, without resorting to such desperate measures.” Lucius spoke quickly, toying nervously with his glass.

“I doubt that very much, Lucius,” Voldemort replied. “The boy must be educated as I see fit, to ensure he is a proper servant, much like his father.”

“Yes, I understand my lord, and I would not attempt to dissuade you if you've determined it necessary.” Lucius was employing his best placating tone. “But if you were to leave him with us and oversee every part of his education, would that not be acceptable? We will keep him home for his schooling, teaching him what you see fit. He will understand what his place is from the start my lord, of this you can make certain.”

Voldemort eyed Lucius appraising. “I am unsure that you and Narcissa are up for the task, Lucius. But perhaps we can, make a deal, as they say.”

Lucius nodded eagerly. “Yes, my lord, I am certain that we can.”

“Very well, Lucius, you shall have your wish,” Voldemort declared, as Matthews reentered the room carrying a still sleeping Draco. Narcissa followed close behind, frantic.

“Lucius, what is going on?” she exclaimed, dashing across the room and gripping Lucius' arm.

“Calm down dear, it's going to be alright,” Lucius said, cupping her cheek.

“How can it be alright! This man says they're taking our baby away,” she wailed.

“I understand your distress, Narcissa,” Voldemort stepped forward, gaining Narcissa's attention for the first time.

“My lord,” she said quickly, attempting to recover her composure. “I apologize, I didn't realize...”

“Shh, Cissy,” Lucius said, drawing her attention away from Voldemort. “Lord Voldemort and I have come to an agreement. There is a prophecy that shows a future of great power for our son, and Lord Voldemort is merely taking steps to ensure that he reaches his potential.”

Voldemort smiled coldly at Lucius' deception. He did not lie, nor did he tell the truth. A proper Slytherin. Voldemort approved.

“A prophecy? About Draco?” Narcissa was confused and distracted, her attention mostly focused on the nervous man holding her son. Draco had begun to whine, and her mothering instinct began to rise.

“Yes, indeed,” Voldemort spoke up. “The prophecy claims that young Draco will have exceptional power, that he will grow to be a well respected and well feared wizard. You are most fortunate in him, you must be very proud.” Lucius was not the only Slytherin in the room, by half.

“But, you won't take him away, will you? He's just a baby, he needs his mother, I...I need,” Lucius cut her off, not unkindly. It wouldn't do to show too much weakness in front of the Dark Lord.

“Draco will remain with you, for the time being,” Voldemort declared. “In a few years, when he is ready to begin training in earnest, we will make the appropriate arrangements. He will not be kept from you, but for his own good he must be kept isolated from the world at large. Is that acceptable to you both?”

Narcissa opened her mouth, as if to object, but Lucius placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. She kept her silence, but didn't take her fearful eyes off her son, who was beginning to cry properly now.

“It is more than acceptable, my lord,” Lucius answered. “You do us much honour with your interest in Draco, your caring for him. We are most proud, and grateful.”

“Excellent,” Voldemort declared. “Give the boy to his mother, Matthews, before she faints.”

Matthews did as he was told, and Narcissa took the baby gingerly. Draco wrapped his chubby arms around her elegant neck, clinging as if his life depended on it, his whines becoming whimpers in the relative safety of his mother's arms.

“Thank you, my lord,” Narcissa managed, through the lump in her throat.

“Lucius, I will confer with you more about the boy's education, in private,” Voldemort said. He tilted his head Narcissa's way, but she knew a dismissal when she was given one, and she took the opportunity most gratefully, giving a curt bow to Voldemort before making her escape. The feeling of relief was hardly comforting; she knew well that there was more that she was not being told. She would not discover how much more until Draco's twelfth birthday, when Tom Riddle would come once again to claim him. He would not be denied a second time.

*

 **  
_July 1997_   
**

They apparated into a copse just outside Godric's Hollow. Harry was grateful for the Apparition lessons Remus had given him; it was still not Harry's favorite method of travel, but it was easier when he was doing the apparating himself that when he went side along with someone else. Draco popped up a second after him, and immediately reached out to grip his hand.

Dumbledore was right beside him along with Ron, Hermione, Remus, Arthur and Charlie Weasley and Kingsley Shacklebolt. Small groups of disillusioned witches and wizards were filling up the woods all around the cemetery where, even now, Riddle's minions could be seen preparing for the arrival of their master. They were waiting for Riddle to arrive, before they re-illusioned themselves and went in to face him.

They didn't have long to wait. Before their eyes, the cemetery filled with Death Eaters in black robes. Shortly afterwards, Riddle apparated into the center of the circle, followed by two more Death Eaters who were restraining Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. Draco's grip on Harry's hand tightened.

Dumbledore nodded at Harry and he nodded back and gripped his wand tightly. They had all agreed that using his wand would throw people off, as they would not be expecting him to cast non verbal spells, especially without a wand. “A bit of misdirection is always a good idea,” Dumbledore had said.

Suddenly, red sparks flew into the air from the tip of Dumbledore's wand, and chaos descended. From all angles, stunners flew and Death Eaters were knocked over and quickly incarcerated in magical ropes. Most of Riddle's men were taken out easily, but the ones who remained turned their wands outward and the battle picked up. Harry and Draco shot out of cover with the rest of their group, eyes open and wands drawn. The others covered them as Harry and Draco made for the center of the circle, where Riddle and the Malfoys were.

“Potter!” shrieked Riddle when he spotted them. “It's just like you to take up a whore like that,” he said, gesturing at Draco, who was half hidden behind Harry, still holding tight to his hand.

“If you mean Draco, you won't get a rise out of me with lies like that, Riddle,” Harry said. “You know as well as I do that he's an innocent.”

“Now that you've had your filthy hands all over him, I doubt that very much,” Riddle sneered. “It's no matter, he won't be able to save you, boy.”

Harry could feel the eyes of both elder Malfoys on him, he felt the weight of their hope in addition to that of every other person fighting with him. He could feel Draco's desperation as well, but instead of weighing him down, it inspired him. He would protect Draco with his life, he would not allow Riddle to touch him again.

Then Riddle hissed, and Harry knew what was coming. He was summoning the great snake, commanding it to attack Draco from behind, but Harry understood every word. He spun around and spotted the snake immediately. He felt the word on his lips, but before he could speak he felt the magic of Sectumsempra leap out of him, slicing the snake into slivers of twitching flesh.

“No!” He heard Riddle shriek as the snake died. Draco was prepared for any incoming spells and cast a protection spell before they could hit. His shield failed quickly under the onslaught, as spells were now coming from three angles. The men holding the Malfoys had bound their charges and were attacking. As the shield spell failed, Harry saw Dumbledore and Charlie Weasley coming to their aid, their hexes catching the two directly, taking them out of the battle.

But it was too late, the spell had fallen and Riddle sent one final, fatal spell in Harry's direction. The roar of “ _Avada Kedavra_!” echoed across the space, freezing the assembled fighters in their tracks, as the green light over took and engulfed Harry.

*

The blackness was murky and cloying, but Harry pushed up, back into consciousness. He gasped from breath, coming around to the sight of Draco above him, sobbing and calling his name. He could feel the hum of protective magic around them, and hear Dumbledore engaging Riddle.

Riddle sounded smug, victorious, but Dumbledore did not give ground.

“Harry, can you hear me? Are you okay? Harry!” Draco's voice was high pitched, a perfect match for his wild eyes, and Harry couldn't help but smile.

“I'm fine Draco, I'll be okay,” he said, reaching out to brush away the tears that streaked Draco's cheeks.

“You died,” Draco said wildly. “I saw him kill you, you were dead.”

“Dying is over rated,” Harry choked out. “I thought I'd give it a pass.”

Draco looked at him in awe, then pulled him up and kissed him passionately, desperately. Harry kissed back, wrapping his arms around Draco and pulling him closer. They pulled apart after a moment, pressing their foreheads together. Harry could feel the relief emanating off Draco, and his chest filled with happiness knowing just how much this beautiful boy loved him.

“Now let's get this over with, shall we?” Harry said, pushing up and letting Draco help him to stand. He was a little shaky, having just died and all.

“Yes please,” Draco said. “I want to go home.”

They were surrounded, protected by more than just a Protego. Harry could hear Riddle's gloating and Dumbledore's even tone.

“That is what you believe, Tom,” he was saying. “Your victory is far from assured, in actuality, your actions have hastened your defeat.”

“Your delusions are grand, Dumbledore. You know nothing about me. Even if you should kill me today, I will return, while you fade and wither.”

“To the contrary,” Dumbledore replied. “I know about your depravity, the horrendous things you have done in the pursuit of immortality. But you have failed, Tom, it has all been for naught. We have discovered and destroyed all your Horcruxes, even as you yourself have destroyed the remnant of you that remained within Harry.”

Harry and Draco shared an incredulous look as gasps sounded around them.

“You lie,” Riddle raged. “It is impossible.”

“It is done,” Dumbledore was as calm as ever, showing nothing but what he wanted to show. “The diary was rendered useless when you used it to return. The ring, the locket, the diadem, the cup...all destroyed as well. You yourself have rid Harry of the Horcrux you made of him, albeit accidentally.”

Riddle's face was a mask of horror and rage, but Dumbledore was unmoved. “Your attempt at making another has failed, and there is nothing left to turn to. Give up now, Tom and perhaps you will live to see tomorrow.”

“Never!” Riddle, screamed. His face was changing, the handsome facade was slipping and revealing the beast underneath. “I will never surrender to you and your pathetic little army. None of you can kill me, not since I've killed your golden boy.”

“Actually,” Harry said, gripping Draco's hand and pushing past Dumbledore. The gasps of shocked rose up around them again, on both sides of the standoff, as everyone realized that somehow, Harry had again survived a killing curse. “I'm fine. Have a bit of a headache perhaps, but otherwise good.”

“Impossible!” Riddle shrieked. “I saw you fall.”

“You did indeed,” Dumbledore agreed, moving back to let Harry stand across from Riddle, Draco pressed into his back. “But as you can see, Harry is quite alive.”

“I don't know why you keep trying, Tom,” Harry said, taking a page out of Dumbledore's book and bringing Riddle down to his level. The man did not deserve to be acknowledged formally. “It'll take a better wizard than you to kill me.”

Draco snorted in amusement behind him, burying his face in Harry's shoulder. Harry couldn't help but smirk, which turned Riddle's rage up a notch, or two. Riddle's once handsome face was transformed once more, making him look less a man and more a creature of evil. It was chill inducing to see a glimpse of his true self.

“You can't kill me, you little pissant,” Riddle sneered, but instead of inducing fear, all it did was make Harry roll his eyes.

“Right, I'm done with this,” he said, lifting his wand at the same time Riddle did.

“I'll kill you for good this time,” Riddle said, yelling “ _Avada Kedavra_!” at the same time as Harry sent an “ _Expelliarmus_ ,” at him.

The result was dazzling. The spells collided in a shower of sparks, the shock wave reverberating the air around them. A hum built up, its pitch rising as the spells fought one another for dominance. Harry could feel the icy grasp of the death spell slide toward him. The power coming from it was tremendous, but Harry had Draco with him, a part of him, giving him the strength to push harder. He could feel the magic in the earth below them, in the air around them...all the power from the assembled witches and wizards slipping into him. Draco's magic was a balm that soothed the conflicting magics, bringing them together into a force that Harry could use.

With that power he pushed, forcing his spell down the connection, watching as it moved closer and closer to Riddle. As it approached, Riddle began to transform, his handsome visage melting away to reveal his true self, his snake-like face frozen in a rictus of terror. Harry pushed harder, and the killing curse that Riddle had cast was forced back on him.

His own hate was his undoing. With an unearthly shriek his body spasmed, disintegrating upon itself before exploding outward, falling toward the earth in a cloud of dust. Just then a wild wind came up, blowing the ash into the sky, scattering it across the cemetery and the forest beyond.

Silence descended as everyone tried to comprehend what had just happened. That Riddle was gone, that he wasn't coming back...it was suddenly real to Harry in a way he'd never imagined. While his scar hadn't bothered him more than sporadically since he met Draco, it now felt almost as if it had never been there. He'd always known what he'd wanted to do when it was done and he still did, but what he didn't know was how to get through this moment. It seemed however, that Draco knew.

Harry felt Draco drop his hand before gripping his shoulders and turning him around. He was still in a daze, but when Draco's lips touched his, he came alive again; brighter, stronger and better than ever before. He kissed back, sliding his tongue against Draco's and with no regard for the dozens of people watching.

It was over.

“That was fascinating,” Dumbledore broke the silence at last, breaking apart the kiss as well. “But we have a lot of work to do still. Celebrations will commence when every task is completed.”

There was a chorus of acknowledgement before everyone began moving again. The Aurors among them began organising and identifying the downed Death Eaters, there were a very few left who had not been captured, and no time was wasted in apprehending them. Soon Ministry officials began arriving, Aurors who were not part of the Order and, before long, the Minister himself.

Draco had pulled Harry away from the bustle, followed by Ron and Hermione, the latter having wrapped Harry up in an enormous hug as soon as they had gained some semblance of privacy.

“You are amazing,” she whispered in his ear, before pulling back and kissing him, full on the lips.

“Oi!” Ron exclaimed, but Draco just laughed. Until she planted one on him as well, giving him a hug and thanking him for being there for Harry.

“Congratulations, mate,” Ron said, shaking his hand, before turning to Draco and offering him a handshake as well.

“Thank you, Draco,” he said seriously, pulling Draco forward into a one armed hug. “Thank you for helping us out, for helping Harry. But most of all, thank you for making him happy. He deserves it.”

“Wow, Ron,” Harry said.

“That was...unexpected,” Draco added, somewhat uncomfortably.

“Yeah, well,” Ron said, blushing. “I think I'll go help with the clean up.”

Harry and Draco stayed where they were, accepting thanks and congratulations from passers by until Dumbledore made his way over to them, followed by Lucius and Narcissa who were awake and apparently none the worse for wear.

“Draco, my love,” Narcissa called, running the last few steps and sweeping Draco into her arms. He returned the hug, clinging back, unable to keep the tears from springing to his eyes at seeing her again.

“I missed you so much,” she said, pulling back and cupping his cheeks tenderly. “I wanted to come to you this week, but Riddle sent Bella to watch me. I'm so very sorry I...that we...”

“It's alright, Mother,” Draco replied, smiling weakly at her. “It worked out for the best, really.”

She hugged him again, tighter, if such a thing were possible, before Lucius admonished. “Let the boy breathe, Narcissa.”

“Yes, I'm sorry,” she pulled back, wiping a few stray tears but leaning forward to kiss Draco on the forehead.

“Draco,” Lucius said formally, nodding to his son.

“Father,” Draco replied, saying nothing more. They stood in awkward silence for a moment before Lucius cleared his throat.

“I do hope...previous events will not keep you from coming home, now that the danger to you has passed,” he smiled wryly before adding. “If we are allowed to return home, that is.”

“That Narcissa will be freed is certain,” Dumbledore said. “There will be consequences for yourself, but they will be mitigated by the information you provided us.”

“Thank you,” Lucius said. “I will accept the consequences, and I will rest easy in the knowledge that Draco and Narcissa will be safe together.”

“We will be, if Mother agrees to come back to the house with us,” Draco said, meeting his father in the eye with a steely gaze.

“You are not intending to join her at the Manor?”

“No,” Draco said firmly. “My place is with Harry.”

“It's okay Draco, you can go home with her, if you want,” Harry said, fidgeting in what Draco had come to learn was nervousness.

“How many times, Harry?” Draco said simply, turning to meet his lover's eyes.

“One more?” Harry replied.

Draco rolled his eyes, but took Harry's hand and entwined their fingers. “I'm not leaving you. Ever. Get it through your thick skull.”

Harry beamed at Draco, who smirked back. “Okay.”

Draco turned to his parents once more. “I'm sorry Mother, but I can't come back with you. If you would like to be with us, that can be arranged, and if not we will come to visit, but you are my past, and Harry is my future.”

“I understand,” Narcissa said, hugging him again. “You are so grown up now.”

“I believe it's time for us to depart,” Dumbledore interjected. “Unless you wish to have an interview with the Minister, Harry.”

Harry scrunched up his face in disgust. “No!” he declared. “Let's go home.”

“I will inform him that you will owl him at your leisure,” Dumbledore said, twinkling down at them. “And now, Mr. And Mrs. Malfoy. There are formalities that must be observed.”

“Indeed,” Lucius said, nodding at the four youngsters before turning away.

“I will see you soon, Draco,” Narcissa said, dropping another kiss on his forehead. “I'm happy you've found your place,” she whispered before pulling back and following her husband.

Draco let out a sigh, then said, “Take me home, Harry.”

Harry did just that.

*

They got back to Grimmauld Place before anyone else. The house was eerily quiet, at odds with the busyness of that evening. It was also completely the opposite of the battlefield they had left, and it hadn't quite sunk in yet.

“I...I don't know what to do,” Harry said, staring at Draco with wide eyes. “I know it's over, I...I don't know how I should feel.”

“You shouldn't,” Draco said. “You just do. Whatever you feel is...it's good. It's over.”

“It's over,” Harry repeated, a wide smile splitting his face.

Draco smiled back, his grey eyes shining. “We should celebrate,” he said.

“But everyone is still at the...” he began but Draco cut him off with a kiss.

“No, Harry,” he said, pressing close to Harry. “I said, let's celebrate.”

“Oh,” Harry clued in, as his body began to respond to Draco's proximity.

“Now he gets it,” Draco leaned in for another kiss, one Harry returned eagerly. They stumbled back a few steps as Harry's hands began roaming Draco's back, clutching him closer. Draco's hands were tugging on Harry's hair, turning his head whatever way Draco pleased.

“Upstairs,” Harry said between biting kisses. “They'll be back soon.”

“Yes,” Draco agreed, pushing Harry away with his hands, while his eyes beckoned Harry closer.

“You're a tease,” Harry said, reaching out to pull Draco back again, but he was too late, Draco was already at the stairs. He turned and took the steps two at a time, stopping to send Harry another burning look before disappearing down the corridor and into their room.

“You'd better be naked when I get there!” Harry called after his retreating back, taking the steps as quickly as Draco did, then stripping his shirt off as he entered the room.

Draco was almost naked. He was on the bed, shimmying out of his trousers and pants, his socks and formerly pressed shirt in a pile on the floor. Harry wasted no time undressing. Now was not the time for slow love making, this was a time of urgency and desperation. Harry hadn't really believed he would live through the day, so when he'd made love to Draco that morning, he couldn't help but wonder if it would be his last. But he was alive. Draco was alive. Very alive, if his erect cock was any indication.

Before climbing on top of Draco, Harry grabbed the lube from the bedside table and slicked himself up with it. He didn't bother to prep Draco, he was much too impatient and he knew Draco would still be reasonably loose from the morning sex. And didn't that thought make his cock throb.

He climbed between Draco's legs, grabbing them by the ankles and pushing them up until he was almost doubled, with Harry braced between his spread thighs. Harry pushed them back further which opened Draco up wider, leaving his hole right where Harry's eager cock could get to it. He wasted no time, thrusting in all the way on the first push, capturing Draco's gasp with his mouth, swallowing the burn and easing it by nudging Draco's prostate. Harry loved this position, loved the clench of Draco's arse around him and the way they could kiss while they fucked. Loved the way he could control the angle and the speed, while Draco lay helpless beneath him, pinned by Harry's body.

He let go of Draco's legs and braced his hands on either side of his chest, letting Draco's legs slide down his arms. He paused there for a moment, his cock throbbing inside Draco's clenching arsehole while his leg muscles spasmed against Harry's upper arms.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but was silenced by the look in Draco's eyes. They were filled with love, desire, trust, completeness; all the things that Harry was feeling. He realized that no words were needed, they understood each other perfectly. Finally, after all these weeks with Draco and the months pondering the prophecy, Harry gave over the lingering disbelief, the doubt that Draco wasn't really his. He had faith that Draco would never leave him, that he would never want him to. Fate had brought them together, but the love they felt was real.

Harry began thrusting deeply, quickly, drinking in every moan and gasp from Draco's lips with his own. The intensity was building, not just in his body, but in his heart, his need and desire for Draco going far beyond the physical.

“Harry,” Draco whispered against his lips as his hands gripped Harry's shoulders. He came with a shuddered gasp, as if he hadn't been expecting it so soon. Harry understood, his own orgasm was approaching far too quickly but the certainty that they would get to do this over and over again gave him the push he needed to just let go, releasing into Draco in pulses.

Harry slid down, letting Draco's legs fall to the side, wrapping his arms underneath Draco's shoulders unable to move but unwilling to leave any part of their bodies untouched.

“I love you,” he whispered into Draco's ear, letting the simplicity of the feeling fill him up when Draco replied.

“I love you too,” Draco was tracing his fingers up and down Harry's back making him shiver. Draco's legs were still wrapped around Harry's waist, his arse still holding Harry's softened cock inside, his lips on Harry's shoulder. 'There is no feeling better than this,' Harry thought. He rolled them to the side, letting their legs tangle, mimicking their tongues as they kissed, lazily stroking each other in blissful aftermath.

Before long, he felt himself begin to harden again and he wondered idly if there would ever be a time he didn't want Draco every second of the day.

“I suppose we should get ready for the party,” Harry said with a sigh, shaking his mind back into reality.

“Oh, they don't need us to celebrate,” Draco replied. “Besides, you haven't opened the birthday gift I got for you.”

“You're right, I didn't,” Harry pulled back and smiled. “Where is it?”

“Under the bed, right within reach,” Draco said, winking at Harry lecherously. Harry laughed and rolled over to get it, pulling it up and sitting beside Draco with the box in his lap.

“Right then, let's get this party started.”


End file.
